


Masks and Meanings (Dancetale Sans/Reader)

by Catthhay



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cinnabun Paps, Dancetale, F/F, F/M, I am the slow burn QUEEN, I suck at fluff at first, I thought there might be smut eventually, I was wrong, M/M, OMG YOU GUYS LIKE EACH OTHER SO KISS ALREADY, Oblivious, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader can dance, Reader spins those flags great tho!, Slow Burn, Tags will be added, Trauma, You and Sans are idiots, You and Sans are slightly romance oblivious, adorable idiots, but I got better!, colorguard, dance, death mention, i get so good at fluff eventually!, is life, neglect mention, painfully slow, so wrong, the story gets better as you go, you are roasted over low heat until well done.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catthhay/pseuds/Catthhay
Summary: ***Dancetale needs more stories***Monsters have danced their way up to the surface. It has been three years, in fact. The novelty of monsters has passed, and discrimination is bad. Humans are proven to be bigots, most of the loud ones anyway. Meanwhile, what usually isn't among the bad news on TV is the fact that monsters are actually world renown for their dancing. It is the only thing nobody can say anything about them lacking skill in. You are somebody who despises the hate against monsters that is monopolozing the news. So you speak up; you make a statement. You do it over a long period of time, and you do it in a way that neither monsters nor humans can ignore because of its symbolism. You make your stand through dance. You put on feature-disguising makeup paired with a masquerade mask, cover up defining features on your body, and you make random appearances at crowded areas in your town. You just dance, your songs always laced with meaning and often self-written. Nobody knows who you are, but your dances are always special and they make an impact. These random protest dances have earned you a nickname, and the attention of a certain skeleton.





	1. "La Venganza"

**Author's Note:**

> Dancetale is life.

She always appeared doing a different dance than whatever she had performed last. This isn't to say that she always did a different dance; oh no, she just never did the same one twice in a row. She was quite partial to Colorguard though, doing routines with flag and rifle almost as often as she could get away with it. The reasoning behind it was subtly symbolic though, and she knew that hardly anyone that saw her perform understood the implications of every colorguard routine she performed. 

Her face was always covered in face paint and makeup, even down half of her neck, in purple, black, and grey. On top of that, further obscuring her facial features, was a silver masquerade mask covered in swirling patterns of purple glitter. Her hair was, as always, under a wig. This time it was a black wig sporting a single silver stripe, and twirled upwards into a messy bun and very obsessively (and painfully) bobbypinned to her skull. 

This time her chosen spot was in center of the first floor of the city's busiest mall, two weeks before Christmas. Her helper, donned in a full-face mask as well as a tuxedo print morph suit, set up the stage in their usual less-than-three-minutes timeframe. The performance had to be very sudden, very noticeable, the message had to be perfectly clear, and they both had to be out of there along with their props before any of the crowd got violent or the cops had to intervene. 

As usual her helper rolled out the long mat, which was just billboard paper painted over both for design as well as texture purposes, in twenty seconds flat. Then they placed the signs at strategic areas around their makeshift stage. Three of the signs were always the same, two were always different. One always said: _Integration is key to Peace, and we can **all** DANCE_.  While another always said: _Hate is painful for everyone_ and the last one that was always the same had the performer's code name on it along with their signature warning:  ** _"La Venganza"_** _may my persistent reminders act as vengeance for those hurt by hate._

The two signs that always changed were easy to explain; one held the title of the dance for that day, along with another short protest quip, and the second changing sign held the song the dance was done to along with the artist. 

This time the Title sign said: _Trail of Dust_

The song sign said:  _Song is: Trail of Dust, written by **"La Venganza"** and sung by **Anonymous** **.**_

Yes, you were "La Venganza," and the singer that did the vocals for the songs you wrote (though you did not write all the songs you danced to, admittedly) was your assistant who went by the alias Anonymous. You still chastised them for being so unimaginative. 

With your stage set, you walked out onto it. Today you were dressed in a long sleeved navy blue dress and black leggings underneath. You came with your flag, a single swing flag, and a wooden rifle meant solely for spinning. The rifle that you performed with was made only for performance purposes, and was a solid block of wood with no chamber or trigger at all. It was merely shaped like a rifle. 

This was performance twenty-something for you as "La Venganza," and you had ended up on the news every single time you performed. At first, people questioned how dancing couuld make a difference. Heck, even you and your friend, who now carried out every performance, had questioned if protesting in this way would do anything. But as you continued to perform randomly in crowded public areas, people started to be affected. You could see the ripples you and your friend were making, now. You could see the changes beginning. You could not stop now. 

So you stood in the center of the floor as people noticed you and began to gather, phones out and at the ready. You and your friends had a mental clock by now, and you both knew your time was precious. Spend too much here, and things could get ugly for you both. Right on time, Anonymous started your newly recorded music. 

You pointed your right foot out in front of you in a perfect _tendu_ , arched your spine backwards, and spread your arms out to either side of you as if you were expecting a huge hug or accepting punishment... or protecting somebody. 

The first lyrics boomed through the mall, echoing. 

> It's hard to care about life
> 
> When it kicks your ass,
> 
> It's hard to care about people
> 
> When they never ask
> 
> If you're okay...

You spun, dancing lightly on your feet in your individual style of dance that was peppered with basic ballet moves as well as hints of hip hop and other styles. Your feet were sure of themselves, your expression somehow conveying the deep emotion of the beautifully sung lyrics even through all the makeup and the mask disguising your features. Your arms swung gracefully; your entire body fluidly spun and swayed and, well...  _danced_ to the emotion in the words and the music. 

> So I've stumbled down this dark path,
> 
> Covered in dust...
> 
> Can I go back? 
> 
> Just when I was lost, I found
> 
> I couldn't feel anymore. 
> 
>  

Now you picked up your swing flag, the short and light pole held flush against your arm. The silk was longer than twice the length of its pole, and the fabric was mostly black with just a small circle of yellow and white near the upper corner next to the pole. It was made to look like the light at the end of a tunnel, as if that light was fading. The silk was framed with small silver dots to mimic the appearance of monster dust. 

Your body continued to move fluidly to the music, only now you spun the flag around with your movements. The silk fluttered around your body; twined loosely around one arm before you burst into another move that whipped the fabric away from your limb. At one point, you held the flag at your waist level as you spun to create the illusion of a dress. The long fabric weaving around your movements expertly made every step you take seem ethereal and fairy like, as if your movements were all part of an elaborate and luxurious mirage. 

 

> People can be good, their soul is pure
> 
> But can they recognize
> 
> If they're not happy anymore? 
> 
>  
> 
> Getting them to try to forgive is the hard part
> 
> Even if there's nothing to forgive
> 
>  

You leapt straight into a roll onto the ground, allowing you to place your swing flag down and pick up your normal flag with the six-foot pole from the ground in one seamless movement. Still on the ground, you spun this flag over your head. The silk on this one was much like the silk on your swing flag, only the small cirlcle of light was missing and the silver dots representing dust particles were more numerous. 

Right in tme with the next two lines, you crumpled your body in on itself and drew the silk around your body as if to protect yourself.

 

> But death, oh
> 
> Death is so easy
> 
>  

You slowly moved, making it seem as if you were peeling the silk away from your body, and your dance moves turned quicker and more segmented. Still nearly flawless and executed with expert grace, your every move now conveyed pain. Pure struggle. Some of your moves were pantomiming an escape from some unseen force.

>  
> 
> All I've seen is suffering
> 
> All I've known are lies
> 
> All I've ever felt is pain
> 
>  
> 
> So I wander my path 
> 
> Covered in dust 
> 
> Don't wanna go back
> 
> I'm too far lost
> 
> Don't even wanna try
> 
> I'm too blinded by this dark joy
> 
>  

You dripped down onto the floor this time, covering your ears and pulling your knees up to your face as if you were hiding from something. Like the truth. Your flag rolled out of your hands (compeltely coreographed, of course) and as the next sweet lyrics came out, your expression suddenly changed to convey hope. 

Your body lurched forward, as if groping for a hand that wasn't there. 

 

> That's when I see your hand
> 
> Held out to me,
> 
> have I ever seen more beauty? 

 

You swopped your rifle from the floor with one fluid move, your body bending at the hips as your fingers just barely grazed the floor and created the image of your hand skimming the top of the water on the ocean until your fingers gripped the wood of your prop and swung it in a lofty, almost lazy toss. The rifle seemed to float in the air for those few seconds, suddenly seeming lighter even than the silk on your swing flag until it landed soundly in your palms.

 

> I can feel your warmth
> 
> I can see your care
> 
> Now all I want
> 
> Is to be there 
> 
> In your arms

 

> I'm still on this path
> 
> Covered in dust
> 
> I want to go back...
> 
> Can I take your hand?
> 
> Will you lead me away? 
> 
>  
> 
> ...
> 
>  
> 
> When we reach the sun, can I stay? 
> 
>  

On that last line you tossed your rifle into the air as high as you could, with it spinning as fast as you had been able to master so far. It stayed in the air just long enough that, at the end of three spins and the long last note of the song, it finally landed sharply in your palms and you were able to slide into your finishing pose. 

You didn't stay long enough to hear more than the very beginning of the mix of applause and denunciation. You rolled the floor up as Anonymous picked up her speaker and gathered the signs. Then, with the heavy ass floor on your shoulders and your equipment balanced in the crook of your arm, you both plowed through the crowd and ran through your practiced escape route. Tossing all of your things into the trunk of your nondescript white van with fake license plates (oops.. oh wait, that was purposeful) you and Anonymous hopped into the back seat and the last accomplice drove you all away. That friend of yours never helped prepare or rehearse for your shows; _all_  they did was drive you to and fro. You had all agreed, the less they knew about it, the less suspicious and/or giddy they would look while driving you. 

As your normally-dressed getaway driver calmly navigated the roads, you and Anonymous stripped out of your costumes and changed into your normal clothing. Both of you had to work with makeup wipes to clean all of your makeup off, and that job was made harder by all the sharp turns and sudden changes in speed that your driver made to evade everybody who was desperately following you. 

Fourty five long minutes of evading tailing cars later, you were finally in the clear and started to actually head home. Still, your driver took a very long and complicated route there just in case and kept a keen eye on all their mirrors to make sure no stragglers were left tailing you. 

Finally pulling into your garage and making sure the door was shut behind the van, you all filed out. Your friend took your equipment into the house as you and your driver-friend picked up the removable decals and put them back on the sides of the van. After a bit of makeup work, it looked as if the company logo was painted on the van instead of slapped on, and you were in the clear. As long as your performance floor wasn't unrolled, it could easily pass as a tarp that the repair business the van belonged to (owned by a family friend who knew about what you did and allowed the decal thing) might use. 

You were then able to relax into your sofa and watch TV as if you hadn't just publicly protested with a song you wrote, and that your best friend sang, while operating under a now famous alias. 

 

Oh, look. You were still on the news. 

* * *

 

"SANS! YOU NEED TO HELP ME PICK OUT A GIFT FOR UNDYNE!" Papyrus almost whined. Sans chuckled, moving to join his brother near the window of the store he was looking in when somebody's shoulder roughly hit his as they passed. Sans growled under his breath for a moment, but as he turned he was silenced by confusion. The person had been carrying something clearly heavy and rolled up... it looked like some kind of painted-on laminated paper, but he couldn't really be sure. 

"Sorry, they're in a hurry. They weren't being mean," a hushed voice told him. Sans turned, and saw you. Well, "La Venganza," anyway. You had a bag he figured your equipment was in, and your arms were brimming with signs. "Watch the dance, please," you walked away before he could answer you, handing off the signs to Anonymous. 

"SANS!" Papyrus called him again, and Sans walked over to is brother, shaking his head. 

"Sorry paps. Undyne's present can wait a bit, something important is about to happen, and we need to snag a good spot before they're taken," Papyrus was so surprised that his brother actually wasn't going along with what he wanted. It was so rare that Sans got interested in anything like he suddenly was, that Papyrus just nodded and followed. 

"WOWIE! WHAT IS IT?" Papyrus asked before he could see the signs. Sans led Papyrus to the innermost ring of thhe growing crowd, where they could get the best view of the coming performance. "Oh," Papyrus was still interested, and excited, but the change in his voice and volume showed that he perfectly understood the weight behind what was going on. 

Sans pulled out his phone, taking a video. Tori and the others would want to see this. Once the song started, the song  _you_ wrote, though, he couldn't even spare a glance at his phone's screen to make sure the video was straight. his eyes were glued to you, and your every move, and every word of the song you had crafted for this very dance. 

Every lyric in _Trail of Dust_ resonated with him, he could feel and relate to the weight behind every word. It was as if you had crafted this song to fit his life-- or, rather, to fit the life he remembered from a past timeline. It was as if you had created this song from Frisk's mind, and out of their memories, with some of his own feelings twined in. Some of his pain.

After that performance, they got home from christmas shopping about the same you were sitting on your couch watching the news report on yourself. And as you were doing that, and Papyrus was hiding his purchases, Sans had already decided that he really wanted to get to know you.

And perhaps... perhaps... he might dance again. In private, of course, with nobody watching and probably only with the amount of lighting that as absolutely necessary for him not to trip over himself.  

Because as sad and true as your lyrics and dancing rang, they gave him some hope. And he had been severely lacking hope for quite a while now. Having it back... well, that was a joy he couldn't begin to describe. 


	2. The Studio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe. You meet Sans and a certain other monster who helps you with your new dance, completely unknowing of your alias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! This story has only been up for one day and already you guys are so supportive and awesome! As a thank you for your sweet encouragement, here is another chapter already!

_Shake Shake. Step, side, forward, go for the first turn... Second turn--_

You tripped. 

You plopped onto the ground with a frustrated groan. You were practicing for your new dance in the dance studio your driver-friend worked at-- whose name was Max, by the way. His family owned the studio, and you had met him years ago when you had started learning dance there as a kid. He taught some classes, though he mainly stuck to more traditional dances rather than Colorguard. Latin, mostly. Which led to your current dillemma.

It was two days after your Trail of Dust dance, and that entire day after that performance people had been talking. For the first time, there was more than just a talkshow or two and the news that you were on; no, politicians and celebrities all across television and the internet had risen to disect your lyrics and speak about the problem of monster discrimination. Your dance had stopped making ripples, and had birthed a tsunami instead. Now that he saw changes and people talking directly because of your dances Max had decided to be involved in your dances directly for the first time.  He had told you and Synthia (Anonymous' real name) that he was going to choose the song and dance style for your next performance... which brought you to where you were now.

Learning the salsa. Solo style, of course. With Max as your sadistic dancing instructor.

"You are evil," you grumbled at him, lifting your head and one hand to point at him accustatorily. "You are the spawn of the devil. You hate me. This is death by dance."

Max laughed, shaking his head at you. "Come on, you've done five different styles of dance already, not including colorguard. You can do one measly salsa."

"Measly?!" you sat up and glared at him. "I'm used to hip shaking. Kicking is fun, and I can pirouette for days. But you have me almost twerking, jerking my legs around like I'm trying for a world record in some kind of demented obsactle corse, and imitating a tornado all in one routine! And," you point to your feet.  "You have me doing it in stilts." 

"They are just three inch heels, get over yourself. The men usually wear heels in salsa, too."

"These are stilts! Look at the heel-- practically a toothpick! How can I dance in these, Max? How does anybody even _stand still_ wearing these?" 

"They don't whine about it and they practice," he retorted dryly. 

"Torture. This is torture!" 

"Come on," he breathed out your name in exasperation. "I'm not changing my mind, you're too stubborn to give up, and you dance in three days. So suck it up, buttercup, and try it again." 

You grumbled but complied, standing up and taking your beginning pose. The music started, and you tapped your foot and began your dance with that performer's smile now plastered on your face. Your lips were stretched in that smile that showed the sheer amount of joy you felt dancing, even if you were wearing shoes balanced on needles and you were shaking your hips more than what was comfortable. Just moving to the music, feeling the sound and the words resonating in your bones... That alone was more than enough to make every performance smile you put on one of your few genuine smiles. One of the few times that that stretch of the lips was never fake.

_Tap. Graze your fingertips along your leg-- now kick, shake shake shake. Step side, side, forward, back, opposite side, side, kick, turn--_

You were in the third of five turns when you heard the door to your practice room open, but you had been dancing and performing for so long that the sound was only barely registered at the back of your mind. You knew that a performer never looked away from their audience, and never got distracted from their dance.  

Even the loud voice that suddenly boomed from the entrance into the room did nothing to interrupt your concentration or the rythym flowing through every vein in your body. 

"WOWIE! LOOK AT THAT, SANS! SHE'S DOING MY STYLE!" 

"Yeah bro, and she's pretty good too." 

_Tap. Kick, turn, prance a little, each step must be dramatic. Salsa is all about the sway in your body, the sexy steps and the hips. Always the hips-- sway. Shake. Shake. Turn. Dip your upper body- drop onto the floor, kick up, roll back to your feet. Trace your body with one hand provocatively as you rise... Kick, spin, spin..._

The music stopped, and the sudden absence of the beat and the sound pouring through your body left you feeling bare and disappointed on some almost spiritual level. You stopped moving almost immediately, looking at Max. He was frowning at you, not even paying attention to the two skeletons near the door that you noticed now that you weren't focused on dancing. 

Skeletons? That seemed very familiar to you. You stared at the shorter one for a moment, trying to figure out why you thought you might have seen him before. 

Then Max said you name again, and you drew your attention away. 

"Your turns are too slow, and you need to execute them sharply. Every time you turn has to be defined. You need to separate the turn from the move behind it-- shove your foot against the ground before you turn, to push off and send you sharply into it," Max walked towards you and turned to face the mirrored wall. "Look. Shake, shake," he moved his hips in your choreography, demonstrating. "And kick-" his foot pushed sharply against the wood floor, sending him quickly into his three perfect turns. "Turn. Make it sharp!" 

"Got it, Max," you nodded, moving to get your water. Every time you tried the routine it felt like you had jogged a mile in the sweltering heat. The salsa was a workout for your entire body-- you knew your calfs were going to ache in the morning. It was decided; after this performance, those heels were getting burnt. 

"YOU WERE DOING REALLY WELL, HUMAN, DON'T WORRY!" the tall skeleton told you enthusiastically. You couldn't help but smile at him, his energy was infectious. The shorter skeleton seemed quieter than the tall one, slouching and relaxed in his hoodie. 

"You're not mad we just came in, are you?" the short one asked. "He saw you through the window and couldn't help himself, he just had to watch you." 

"Oh yeah?" you smiled again sipped your water. "I'm not mad. If we wanted to keep anybody from seeing we would have covered the window and locked the door, but this studio doesn't like doing that. If you want to sign up to rent one of the practice rooms or to join one of the classes, the best way to recruit you is to woo you with what is done here regularly," you shrugged, and then chuckled after another sip of water. "But you guys are monsters, so I doubt you're here for classes. You need to rent a practice room, or were you just looking?" you teased them lightly. The tall skeleton laughed cheerily. The only window in the room was facing towards the inside of the building, so they wouldn't have come in the building just to watch you, they had to have entered for another reason initially. 

"YES, HUMAN. MY FRIENDS AND I WOULD LIKE A PLACE TO DANCE REGULARLY. OUR USUAL STUDIO WAS... SHUT DOWN," his voice grew a bit sad at the end, and it made you frown and close your water bottle. 

"Did you guys go to the monster-owned studio downtown? The one that bigots burned down two weeks ago?" they both nodded sadly, their sorrow making you clutch your water bottle so tight your knuckles went white. "Well! Max, you got a discount for 'em? " you asked abruptly, turning around to look at your friend. He laughed. 

"What do you think? You guys can rent out a room on the third floor, the first two hours are free since you guys went through that shit." 

The shorter skeleton looked skeptical. "You don't care that we're monsters?" you and Max shook your heads, though the look on your face was decidedly more passionate. 

"Absolutely not!" you said sharply, setting your water down. "Like "La Venganza," says, we can  **all** dance. Just because you guys have magic and you aren't all necessarily human-looking doesn't make you any less deserving of life or happiness or rights. The people who can't see that hate accomplishes nothing but harm, well..." you ran a hand angrily through your hair. "They are depriving themselves of happiness too, simple as that. Hopefully some of them will listen and realize that we can all live on Earth just fine together," you noticed you were rambling and shut upp with a soft blush donning your cheeks. "Sorry... I get pass--"

"No, its fine," the shorter skeleton sad, his eye lights trained on you. His back was straighter, you noticed. "Thank you. Not very many people think the way you do." You waved your hand at him.

"Dont worry about it!" you introduced yourself, and they both seemed happier when you reached out a hand in greeting after telling them your name. Papyrus shook your hand first, his enthusiasm even carrying over to the gesture and you feared he might dislocate your arm at first.

"WELL, DANCNG HUMAN! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS, IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU!" you giggled at his energy, smiling up at him.

"Well hello. I hope you stay at this studio, Papyrus. Everyone here could use some of your enthusiasm!" orange dusted his cheeks--  a magic blush, maybe? It was adorable. Before he could answer, you offered your hand to the other skeleton. His handshake was firm, but a lot calmer and not too tight. You met his eye lights evenly, and you two shared a smile... despite his being apparently permanent, you felt like it was genuine at that moment.

"I'm Sans. Thanks for being so nice to my little bro," Your smile widened, and you looked from Papyrus to Sans excitedly.

"Your brothers? That's great! I have a... small family, so it must be great having a brother like Papyrus," Sans' smile grew, making his eye sockets squint upwards slightly in joy and admiration.

"Yeah. He's the best."  

Max called your name, and you turned to him. 

"Break's over, silly. Sorry guys, she has a big performance next week," it surprised you how easily that lie flew past Max's lips, "Just tell whoever's at the front desk that Max said you can rent out room 3C for the first two hours free. If you like it, we can discuss a discount for later."

"Sounds cool," Sans nodded. Papyrus, however, wasn't so ready to leave. 

"WAIT! BEFORE WE GO, CAN I DANCE WITH YOU ONCE?" he asked you, which made your eyes widen is surprise. 

"You dance Salsa?" 

"You know Latin dancing?" 

You and Max spoke at the same time, which made the brothers laugh. Then Papyrus struck a pose.

"WHY, YES! LATIN IS MY SPECIFIC DANCE STYLE!" You could see sparkles in Papyrus' eyes at this claim. To be fair, if it were physically possible then Max would also have sparkles in his eyes. He was always super happy whenever somebody said they danced Latin styles, and he had been wanting to meet a Monster that danced it every since they came aboveground because of their famous mastery of whatever style is theirs. 

"Oh, yes!"Max said, then gestured at you. "She's only been learning this for a little while though, so you might have to go easy on her." Papyrus laughed cheerily. 

"NO WORRIES! THE GREAT PAPYRUS DANCES WELL WITH EVERYBODY!" 

You shook out your arms and legs, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah! I've wanted to dance with a monster for forever! Not a magic one though, right?" you knew that monsters could enter dances magically, where a missed step could sometimes get their partner hurt. Papyrus reassured you with a shake of his head. 

"NO, JUST A REGULAR DANCE FOR TODAY. SORRY," You shook your head to reassure him you didn't mind. After all, latin dancing was not your specialty. You didn't want to accidentally get hurt from missing a few steps. 

Max put on a different song, and Papyrus took your hand and held you close. 

As soon as the lyrics started Papyrus started to move, forcing you to follow his admittedly amazing lead. You were so caught up in the dance that you couldn't focus on what the name for it was. All you knew was that dancing with him felt amazing. He stepped and spun you perfectly to the music, and as usual you felt the beat and the rythm flow through you as if they had become your blood. 

_Step back back, forward._

Papyrus whipped you away from him, and you followed that movement by snapping into a spin. In and out, close to him one moment and just barely touching the tips of his phalanges the next. He took you all across the room, dipping and swining you in deceptively complicated movements. You realized during this dance why it was his dance. Papyrus was so confident and passionate, which was reflected in every movement he made, whether he was dancing or speaking. In deed, as he led your around the room his confidence was nearly palpable in a very endearing way. It made you feel ocnfident about yourself. That was the core of Latin dancing, as well. Confidence and passion. But at the same time Papyrus was obviously caring and sweet, which was reflected n how carefully he handled you and made sure you could follow his movements. He supported you through every spin and lift, helping you succeed even as you were both out of breath from the quick movements.  

All too soon the song ended, and Papyrus swooped you into one final dip. Panting, you knew the smile on your face was giddy with absolute joy. You had never danced with anybody like that before! It was thrilling, and oh so very... amazing was the only suitable word that came to your mind. It was as if he was the very embodiment of Latin dancing, even Max and Sans looked awestruck (though unbeknownst to you, Sans was only in awe of _you._ He had already known what to expect from Paps). 

"ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE A BEGINNER, HUMAN? YOU WERE AN AMAZING DANCE PARTNER. NOT AS GREAT AS I, BUT VERY GOOD NONETHELESS!" you chuckled as the both of you separated from that ending pose. 

"Thank you very much, Papyrus. You were-- Stars, that was the best dance I have ever had! If you ever want to dance again, just ask. I don't think I could ever refuse you after that!" the orange blush returned to his cheeks as he laughed proudly. Then you turned to Sans.

"Do you dance Latin too?" you asked him curiously. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nah, never been good at that." You tilted your head.

"What do you dance then?" the reluctant look on his face made you think that perhaps you had asked the wrong question, and you were about to take it back when he answered. 

"I don't dance anymore. Too lazy," he shrugged at you as if it didn't matter, and you frowned. Monsters often said that dancing regularly improved a monster's health, so you knew it wasn't any small deal that he didn't dance but you didn't bring it up. He must have a good reason, you thought. One that he wouldn't just tell a random stranger. 

"Well. You and your brother are welcome here whenever you want!" Max interrupted, beaming with pure amazement. "Don't hesitate to come back. That was incredible!" 

Sans chuckled again when Papyrus' fading blush bloomed up once more. 

"NYEH HEH. THANK YOU VERY MUCH, OTHER HUMAN! WE WILL DEFINITELY BE BACK. DANCE WITH ME AGAIN SOME OTHER TIME, DANCING HUMAN!" you promised him that you would, and they left to reserve their two free hours in 3C. 

"Wow," you said to Max when they were gone. He just nodded at you. "Max," you said to him. "If all monsters can dance like that, our protests better damn work." 

"That's right, the performance! Back to the routine!"

You groaned, but this time you were sharper on your turns and your smile was brighter than ever. You had found two new skeletons to give you more enthusiasm in your dancing. 

Papyrus had also made you forget you were wearing murderous heels, so you were able to dance as if you weren't. 


	3. Without Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heh... 'cause "Sans" means without... heh... You'll see what I mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! You guys are honestly amazing, and this story is a lot more fun to write than I could ever imagine, so my updates are going to be pretty quick for a while. Not like you guys are gonna complain, right? >:3 lol, jk. 
> 
> Also! In the past chapter, Max tells you how many types of dances you have done. Well.. I cut it down. Twelve was too many so now it is five, so that is changed in chapter 2 now. I kinda forgot that I said you do dances more than once when I was writing that chapter so... oops. that is kinda important.

Your practiceonly lasted another thirty minutes after the skeletons Sans and Papyrus left. That was why you weren't too surprised to see Sans leaning against the wall outside the studio when you got outside. You stopped when you saw him, tilting your head. You had no idea if he had heard you come out because his eyes were apparently closed. That was what confused you enough to stop and stare; how could his eyes close if they were essentially just eyesockets? Did that mean that his bone was malleable? You stopped and thought back to your dance with Papyrus, but you had been so caught up in the glory of the actual dance that you hadn't paid much attention to how his phalanges felt. Suddenly Sans' eyes opened and his eyelights trained on you. 

"Heh.  _Waltz_ are you looking at?" he asked you, making you blush at the fact that you had been caught staring. Then you looked at him again when something in your head clicked, making your eyes widen. Slowly a grin spread on oyur face. 

"Did... you just make a dance pun?" your voice cracked, much to your dismay, giving away your hidden laughter. When he nodded you lost that control and laughed before walking over and leaning on the wall next to him. After all, it asn't like you had anywhere special to be. Your only plans were to go straight home. Alone. Since you lived alone. Max and Synthia were your only friends too, so you hardly ever had any plans aside from work, practice, and protesting. After a second of amiable silence you spoke up again. 

"So, what are you still doing here? Is Papyrus inside watching other dances?" Sans chuckled, shaking his head. 

"Nah, Paps already went home," he saw your concerned look and held up a hand, quickly adding: "Don't worry, some friends of ours came to pick him up," you didn't miss that his permanent smile straightened out a little bit into a grateful smirk. He was glad that you worried about his brother. 

"Oh, okay..." you ran a hand through your hair, frowning. "But you shouldn't be alone, either, you know? As much as I hate it, it isn't safe for any monster to walk or stay anywhere outside alone. And even though everybody here at the studio is against discrimination, they can't exactly see you right here. If somebody attacked you they wouldn't know, and..." he cut you off with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey. You don't have to worry about me, I can protect myself just fine," he looked you straight in the eye until you nodded, confirming that you understood and were calm again. "Anyway, I stayed because I wanted to talk to you, actually." 

"Really?" you tilted your head, looking at him in silence for a moment before smiling. "Okay. Well, how about this? I don't have any plans, and it's pretty late, so how about you and I go to a local diner I know? It's close by, and you can ask me whatever you want there." 

Sans shrugged, and followed you down the stairs and out from under the cover of the roof that covered the area outside the studio from the entrance to the egde of the steps. When you did, you noticed Sans had stopped walking and turned around to see if something was wrong. 

He was looking up. You blinked and followed his gaze. When you saw what he was staring at, you relaxed in understanding and went back to stand next to him. He was watching the sunset. You watched it with him, understanding how he felt. After being trapped underground his whole life, even after three years the sunset must still look like a miracle. After all, its beauty sometimes overwhelmed even those who had lived on the surface their whole lives. But you could relate a bit more than most people could to Sans. After all, you knew what it felt like to be trapped somewhere, denied the priviledge of going outside or seeing nature. For a long time you had been treated like a bird, never allowed to leave your cage. Only good for cooing over your beauty, nothing else. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you realized the sunset was over, the colors hidden behind the city's buildings. You started moving again, showing sans to the diner where Synthia worked. 

The building was small, all faded pale blue and white paint. Despite the age to it, and the paint slightly peeling or overly faded in spots, it looked happy. In fact, it exuded joy and warmth. Perhaps it was because of the light flooding out from the large, spotless windows. Or maybe it was the flawlessness of the navy blue booths that were visible through those windows, or the fact that everybody who was inside was smiling or laughing, a sparkle of genuine joy in their eyes. 

But to you? As you led Sans up to the entrance you knew that the thing that made this diner seem so welcoming and happy the most for you was the fact that humans were not the only people inside. There were monsters, both as servers as well as customers, and the humans that were also in the building didn't seem to have any problems with them. In fact, some monsters were sitting at tables with human friends. Everybody was laughing and happy.  _Together._

You led Sans back to your usual booth in the far corner of the diner, where you could get a good view of the happy crowd. As you made your way over there, all the servers-- monsters and human alike-- smiled and greeted you by name happily. Even some of the diner's regulars smiled and waved to you, or called something out to you. That was normal, for all that it made you happy every single time you walked in the diner. What you didn't expect, however, was that a lot of the monsters also greeted Sans by name and waved to him as if they were oold friends. 

When you two finally sat down in your booth, you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

"Pretty popular, huh?" you asked him with a small grin. He just shrugged. 

"I guess so," he said dismissively, though you didn't miss the happy twinkle in his eyes or the slight widening of his smile. You were going to say something else when Synthia came over, her brow lifted in curiosity as she looked from Sans to you and back again. She was clearly dying to know why you brought him when you hardly ever ate with anybody aside from her or Max. 

"Hello! The usual for you?" she asked you, and you simply nodded, smiling. You weren't going to tell her anything. She huffed, clearly disappointed that you weren't telling her why you came with a stranger, but she recovered quickly and turned to sans with a cheery smile. "Do you want anything, hon?" she asked him. She always called monsters 'hon,' though you didn't really know why. Perhaps she wanted to make sure that they knew she was on their side. 

You could have sword you saw Sans' gaze flick over to the bottle of ketchup on the table for a split second. "Um... Yeah, an order of fries, please," he ordered simply. Synthia nodded. 

"Sure thing! I'll be right back, guys," with that she glided away from the table, allowing you and Sans to talk. 

"So," you said, putting your elbow on the table and leaning your head on your hand. Now that you were sitting down, you realized just how tired you were of being on your feet all day. You allowed yourself to appreciate for a second the glory of no longer wearing those heels Max had sadistially forced you to dance in. They were in the bag on your shoulder, along with the rest of your practice clothing. Now you were in simpe sneakers, jeans, and a plain black t-shirt. Ahhh, the comfort felt so nice after all that dancing.  

"Well," Sans seemed to be carefully choosing his words before putting his arms on the table and leaning forward. The interest in his eyes was impossible to miss. 

"You mentioned "La Venganza," earlier. What do you know about her?" at his question your mouth quirked upwards in a smirk. Oh, this was priceless. It was like a movie, he was asking you about yourself without even knowing it. 

"Interested?" you asked a little smugly, accepting your lemonade from Synthia when she came over with your drink. Seeing that you were talking to Sans, she just walked away without a word. You loved that about her; she never interrupted a conversation. 

Meanwhile, Sans leaned back and scratched the back of his head. 

"Yeah, I am. I just..." he sighed. "You know her dance two days ago,  _Trail of Dust?"_ You nodded. Of course, even if it had been one of your lesser known dances, you still would have said yes. You couldn't lie about the dances you did yourself, it was too awkward. You had tried before. It didn't work out well and almost got you found out. Sans seemed more animated at your answer. "Did you see it?" you shook your head; _this_ you could lie about. 

"Just saw snippets on TV, I wasn't at the mall that day," you lie smoothly. Sans almost looked dreamy eyed. It wasn't in a crush way, though, so much as immense curiosity. 

"I was," you raised your eyebrows, genuinely shocked. "In fact, her helper-- is their name Anonymous? Anyway, they bumped into me while carrying her floor to the spot where they performed," your eyes widened as you suddenly realized why he had looked familiar earlier. Your epiphany was confirmed when he said; "Then "La Venganza," came up and apologized, and told me to watch the dance. So I did, I dragged Papyrus over there so that we had a good spot to watch and..." he shook his head. "It was... wow. I'm not just talking about the dance moves, or the design on the flags, either. Her timing was perfect, and she  _wrote_ that song. You had to have been there to hear it on the speaker..." he trailed off, and you really hoped you weren't blushing. Even if you were, though, he wasn't looking at you. He was staring off someplace only he could see, his gaze towards the wall behind you. 

"It was the emotion that struck me the hardest," he said softly. "And the meaning behind those lyrics, it was as if... You could see how genuine she was. And I don't know how, but she had this way of conveying her emotions even though you couldn't make out any of her facial features. When her dance moves changed to telegraph pain, it truly seemed as if she was in physical pain. As if she was truly struggling."

After a brief, heavy silence that was interrupted only by your food arriving and another respectfully silent exit from Synthia, you chuckled nervously and spoke.

"Well," you scratched the back of your neck. "I assume you didn't bring me here just to brag about how you saw "Law Venganza," up close, did you?" This seemed to snap hm out of his thoughtful daze, and he smiled again. Before, his smile had straightened out almost completely to something equally as dazed as the look in his eyelights had been.  

"Sorry for droning on. Anyway, I also wanted to say that your dance with my brother was amazing," he assured you. "Along with asking you some questions about what you know about 'La Venganza.'" 

"Thanks, your brother is really an amazing dancer. All I did was follow his lead," you shrugged, but Sans was already shaking his head.

"Stop. Papyrus dances with Frisk like that sometimes," a part of your mind registered that he was talking about the child who had freed the monsters, and was now known as a pretty good ballet protege and was being raised by the former Queen of monsters, Toriel. "He always slows down more for Frisk. He never does more complicated moves than he thinks his dance partner can handle, and the two of you did some pretty impressive ones. You may not have danced that style for very long, but you clearly have some experience just  _dancing._ Otherwise you wouldn't have been able to do half of that routine," he pointed out, and now you were most definitely blushing. 

"Hah. I may have been dancing one style or another since I was a kid," you admitted. "So, what do you want to know that you think I might be able to tell you about 'La Venganza,'?" you quickly changed the subject, though it didn't escape your detection that you had just changed the subject from  _you_ to  _still you._

"Well," Sans started. "Do you have any idea where she practices?"

Oh, that was good. You had to desperately hold back a smirk and the reply ' _you have been there before._ ' You succeeded. Barely. Instead, you leaned forward and smiled at him. 

"Why do you want to know? Plan on figuring out who she is? Maybe you want to ditch the studio I practice out for the one she goes to, if she even uses a studio." Sans chuckled. 

"No. I want to get to know her," that surprised you, and you leaned back and crossed your arms. 

"Oh? You don't want to just crack the mystery?" you prodded a bit more, but he shook his head, adamant. 

"No. Somebody who can write those type of lyrics, who can dance with that much sincerity behind every step? I want to help her, if you are asking about her protests. As a person, though..." he trailed off for a second before he looked into your eyes. "I could use a friend like her, who truly understands how we feel. Who can empathize." 

You stared at him for a long while, eating your food slowly. Seeing that you weren't going to reply soon, he proceeded to dump the entire bottle of ketchup on his fries and dig in. Other than a little raise of your eyebrows, you ignored it. When you two were almost done you wiped your face with a napkin and finally responded. 

"Well, you want to make friends with 'La venganza,'? You're going to have to spend a lot of time trying to crack her identity. You might not succeed for a long time, if ever. So how about..." you leaned forward one more time, Sans' attention entirely on you. You smiled at him brightly. 

"You start with me?" you grabbed a napkin and a pen from your bag (you always kept a few in there for emergencies) and wrote your nuumber on it. Sans didn't spek, so you handed him the number and elaborated. "Since you might not be able to make friends with 'La Venganza,' anytime soon, I hope I'm a good enough replacement. If you succeed, you can ditch me," your smile showed you were joking, but you still waited until he took the napkin, looking slightly dazed, and held out your hand to him for the second time that day. "Deal?" 

Slowly realization dawned on him that you were asking to be his friend, and his smile also brightened. He tucked the napkin with your number on it into his hoodie pocket and nodded, gripping your hand in the same firm handshake as before. 

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Just wanna say, sorry for any mistakes in grammar and/or spelling. I don't edit, and if I don't catch a mistake during my first reread than I might not end up fxing it at all. Sorry! Hope you like this story anyway :)


	4. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title has multiple meanings :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters in three days? Wow. This has never happened before on any website I have written stories on (this would be website #4 in that category, btw). I wonder how long this is gonna last. I've just been super motivated to write, and this story is super fun. Maybe my passions for writing and dancing are merging? 
> 
> Now! Something new for you guys. I know Colorguard isn't something a lot of people know about, so on chapters that don't mention it in any sort of detail I will link a youtube video of a color guard routine. I guarantee every video I link will be to an awesome routine, I'm picky :P On the chapters that do involve color guard, I might link a video of another dance or I might not link anything at all. We'll see.
> 
> <https://m.youtube.com/?#/watch?v=i-7QHCw2h80>

When you and Sans left the diner, you both stopped and stared at the stars for a while, the silence between you comfortable. 

"Look," Sans was the one who spoke up first. "I gotta get home before Paps worries about me too much." 

You liked this laid back skeleton, and didn't want him to leave yet. Especially knowing that when you got home, nobody was waiting for you. Nobody would get up off of your couch to scold you for coming home late, or look up and smirk at you and say 'about time you got home, silly,' or even just be laying down asleep when you walked through the door for you to gaze lovingly at. Nobody. Not even a pet, your apartment didn't allow any. There was nobody to worry about you or fret over you, apart from Max or Syntha anyway but they wouldn't notice you were missing unless you missed a practice or dinner at the diner or performance planning session. 

Sometimes you felt like your picture rested right alongside the dictionary definition of "lonely." 

Alas, you had no right to keep him from his home and his adorable brother. Just because you had nobody to go home to didn't mean that you could keep him going home to those he had waiting for _him_. So you forced a smile on your face, one of those convincing fake ones that you always kept handy. 

"Yeah, I better get home soon too. Stay safe, Sans." 

"Yeah, you too," just as he turned to go, you couldn't help but squeeze out a little 'wait.' He heard, and turned to see what you had to say. Your smile wavered for a perilous moment before you steadied it stubbornly. 

"I'll be at the studio again tomorrow. Gotta get as much practice in as possible for the competition, you know? So, uh..." you suddenly lost a little of your confidence and trailed off. Luckily Sans was smart, and picked up easily on what you wanted to say. 

"Ah. Don't worry, we got our two free hours scheduled for tomorrow-- Paps and our friends like to dance as much as possible. See you at three?" he asked the last part, and you nodded happily. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell Max to switch around my practice hours so I can come watch... If that's okay?" 

"What? Oh, sure. They love an audience," he gave you a strange look. "I thought that's what you wanted to do in the first palce. People usually can't stop asking to see us dance, so I told you three because that's when our reserved time begins..." you blinked. 

"You think I only want to hang out because of your dancing?" you were mildly insulted, but you forced yourself to realize that you two had just met. He didn't know you that well yet, so he had no reason to think you were all that different from the humans he was used to. "I love dance, and I love watching skilled dancers, but that isn't why I want to be your friend. Hell," you rubbed your forehead. "I don't... I don't even know if I'm gonna go to that competition after all, Sans. I always tell myself I'll compete, and I always learn these routines, but in the end I hardly ever get myself to dance in front of others," that was actually the truth. Even if you didn't sign up for competitions at all, the part about hardly being able to perform in front of others? That was real. If you were dancing with a partner it was different, but a solo performance? You only did those in front of Max and Synthia or when nobody knew who you were. 

Papyrus and Sans had just gotten lucky, walking in on the middle of your salsa when your dancer's integrity wouldn't let you just stop. 

"I know it sounds random," you said softly. "But this is the point; I... Sure, I want to see you guys dance. But I don't expect you guys to hang around me if all I'm doing is being a stupid observer. I want to be your friend because I loved Papyrus' personality when I met him earlier. He was so sweet and enthusiastic. And you're funny and I can already see that you're passionate and you care about your brother so much-- I've only just met you and I can see that you both are great people. Better than most humans I've met. And I don't have that many friends, if I'm terribly honest..." you felt a few tears slip down your cheeks ,and hurriedly wiped them off. Why were you so stupid? You were rambling on about nothing, and he probably thought you were being a drama queen or an idiot. He wouldn't want to talk to you anymore, now. He probably thought you were just desperately trying to cover up that you wanted to just watch to watch them dance and nothing more, when that couldn't have been farther from the truth. He was silent as you tried to compose yourself. You couldn't bring yourself to even look at his face. 

"You said... That you could use a friend that could empathize with you, right? That's why you want to find out who 'La Venganza,' is and get to know her, right? Well, I'm the same way. I could use a few more friends who can understand me. Who don't want to just use me because of my looks or my dancing, because, yes, people do that same thing to me. That's why I don't dance in front of people as much as I used to. Look, I know I'm being stupid. You don't have to call me or whatever if you think I'm just another weirdo. I won't even go up to your practice room tomorrow if you want to take back that deal about us being fr--" He finally spoke up. 

"Nah, kid. You're cool, I guess I'm just a bit paranoid. I know you're being genuine right now, so calm down," you looked up at him, only to see that he was looking straight at you. Somehow that look in his eyes calmed you down, anchored you. 

He didn't think you were an overemotional idiot. He didn't think you were an attention hog. You actually had a shot at making friends other than Max and Synthia. 

You had a chance at feeling loved again, genuinely. 

For the first time in years, you smiled genuinely outside of the middle of a dance.

* * *

 

"You know, you should be annoyed at them," Max pointed out thoughtfully. You were back in your practice room, tapping around the wood floor in what you now called the Devil Heels. They were gold instead of red, sure, but they hurt like the devil so the name was fitting enough. 

And just like you had predicted the night before, you calves ached like all hell. 

"Eh?" you looked up at Max after repeating the new set of moves he had taught you. You knew what he meant, though. After all, since the skeleton brothers had seen part of your routine and heard the song you had to change both so that they didn't connect you to "La Venganza." Thankfully Max had stopped you the day before only a third of the way into your routine, so most of it could stay the same. Learning an entirely new Salsa in two days would have been impossible, and there was no way any of you were going to reschedule. You had to perform often if you were going to make enough of an impact. It was also lucky that he had found a song with a beat that was almost the same as in the original song, so you didn't have to adjust the original choreography that you were keeping. 

"I'd like to think that they won me some extra dance time rather than focus on the pain of learning more of your evil steps," you retorted easily before checking the clock. It was almost three. "We'll pick up after dinner?" you asked him again, and Max sighed. Synthia was in the room too, and looked up from the journal she was reading when she heard him. 

"Yeah," he said reluctantly. "I can only watch you from five fifteen to six, though, and you need more practice than that. So, like I promised, I recorded your routine for Synthia," he made a few swipes on his phone that you assumed was him sending the video to Synthia. "When I leave she'll meet you at your place and make sure you practice for at least another hour." 

Synthia grinned at you, brushing some of her red bangs out of her face. "Yeah, we all know that if you don't have somebody keepin' an eye on you, you'll crash on your bed and binge watch anime instead of practicing," Synthia got up with a little groan and flipped the journal closed before handing it to you. It was the journal you wrote your songs in, and she had been reading the draft of the newest piece you planned to use for a future performance. 

"I like it," Synthia whispered conspiratorily, tapping your journal with a wink. "Its obviously still a bit rough, but heading in the right direction for sure. Maybe add some bits where I can draw out the last syllable? Make the bigots who hear it feel guilty when they hear the sad lilt of those specific bits?"  you chuckled at this suggestion and nodded before tucking the journal into your bag. Not five seconds later the Devil Heels joined it, and you put your sneakers on in place of them. 

_Ding!_

Your phone lit up, chiming with the notification that you had just gotten a text. You snatched your phone greedily, unlocking it to view the message eagerly. 

**(###) ### ####: Hey. This is Sans, we just got up to the room.**

You didn't notice your face light up with joy, or how quickly your fingers flew over the touchscreen keyboard of your phone to form a reply. You definitely didn't notice that Max and Synthia saw all this, and traded a small smirk. They were happy for you, especially since they couldn't be there for you all hours of the day. Some new friends would do you good. 

**You: Perfect timing! I just ended my practice, I'll be right up!**

**(###) ### ####: 'Kay.**

You slung your bag over one shoulder, and only paused to put Sans in your contacts. You didn't know him well enough to give him a funny nickname yet, so you just lamely put him in as "Sans."

Apparently you had spent a while deciding this, because Sans texted you again. 

**Sans: Hey, you okay? How long does it _tango_ you to get up here?**

You changed his name in your phone to "Pun master" without a second thought. 

You couldn't remember the last time you jogged up stairs, but that's exactly what you did. You could have taken the elevator, but you had some excitement you needed to burn off. Besides, what was two measy flights of stairs anyway? 

When you reached 3C, Sans was in front of the door looking at his phone worriedly. It was your laugh that made him look up and pocket it, relief visible on his face. And then embarrassment. 

"Sorry," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I knew you were only downstairs, so it worried me when you took so long to get up here." You didn't waste time assuring him that it was fine. 

"Don't worry," you said with a smile. "It's sweet of you to check up on me like that," was that a blue blush? Didn't Papyrus blush orange, though? Oh, now you were just swimming with questions about what the colors meant, or what the color of a skeleton monster's blush was bassed on, was it a personality thing? Maybe it was favorite-color based, his hoodie was blue. Wait, that made no sense. Not even monsters could control what color they blushed... right? 

"Well, come on in. Everybody wants to meet you," Sans held the door open for you, and you walked in. You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. 

"Everybody?"

"Heh. Yeah, Paps couldn't stop talking about you," Sans admitted, the same adoring smile on his face as the day before. A pang hit you in the chest; you wished you had a sibling to adore and love like that. 

Sure enough, as soon as the monsters in the room saw you it got quiet. You got nervous for a moment, thinking that maybe they didn't want you there, when suddenly they all smiled and swarmed over to you... some a _lot_ faster than others. 

"NYEH HEH HEH! THIS IS THE DANCING HUMAN I WAS TALKING ABOUT!" Papyrus boomed proudly, suddenly at your side with a hand on your shoulder. The energy in the room coaxed a smile out of you. How could they do that? You weren't normally a smiling kind of person. The first body to reach you was a tall fish woman, just as tall at Papyrus. Even though you weren't a slouch as far as height was concerned, having the fish woman in front of you and Papyrus at your side made you feel really, really short. 

"Hey, punk! I'm Undyne," she held out her hand and you shook it without hesitation. Only... Well, you could tell she didn't mean it, but her grip was _very_ tight, and when she let go you could see your hand was red.  She put her hands on her hips. "I heard that you kept up with Papyrus pretty well, so dance with _me_ now!" You blinked, a bit caught off guard. You didn't even know what her dance was! 

"Now, Undyne. Calm down, she still has to meet the rest of us. Dear, you don't have to dance if you don't want to," that came from a goat monster who was even taller than Undyne. You looked over at Sans helplessly. He was the only monster so far that wasn't taller than you-- he was exactly your height., actually-- were you doomed to be a shorty in this group? Sans understood your look, and laughed. 

Nobody paid attention to him. 

You returned your attention to the goat woman, and introduced yourself. She smiled, extending a paw to you. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you, dear. I'm Toriel," your eyes widened. No wonder she looked familiar! She was on the news even more than you were! In fact, you could have sworn you had seen her talking about your performanced before but for the life of you you couldn't remember what she had said. 

"O-oh," you stammered, shocked that you had just met such an important person. "N-no, the pleasure is all mine! Your majesty? Ms. Toriel... Uh..." you blushed, unable to figure out what to call her. She laughed softly, noticing your dillemma. 

"Don't worry, child. Just Toriel is fine, I haven't been Queen in a long time. Frisk, dear! Don't just jump on our guest!" 

Sure enough, while Toriel had been talking a child had jumped onto you, enveloping you in a hug. You looked down at them, confused. If you remembered correctly, this was Frisk, the Monster's young Ambassador. They had just turned thirteen, too, you thought. You laughed softly, looking down at them in their leotard and ballet shoes. 

"Woah. You're Frisk, the ambassador?" you asked them, oyur eyebrows raised high. They let go of you, nodding. You made a comically suspicious face, pretending to scrutinize them. "Hmm... Aren't you a little short?" you teased them, making them giggle. You crouched down so you were closer to their height, and then you frowned slightly. Just as you thought, they didn't look like anybody you knew. "Do you tackle every new person you meet in a hug?" 

You thought that they looked a little disappointed, but they quickly recovered by shaking their head and smiling. Then came the rapid signing. You blinked, and rubbed the back of your neck. 

"Sorry, Frisk. Could you go a bit slower? I haven't had to read sign language in a while, so I'm a bit rusty," you admitted shyly. They smiled reassuring at you and signed again. 

**No, I don't hug just anyone like that. But you're special!**

**"** Hmm?" you hummed curiously. "How am I special?" Frisk thought about this for a moment before signing again. 

**You just are. I feel like you're going to be a really awesome friend!**

You couldn't help but blush at this, flattered. "Wow, thanks Frisk! Just to be fair, though, you're pretty special too," their full attention was on you now, and you smiled deviously. "After all, you freed all monsters, and act as their ambassador! In addition, your style's on _pointe_!" 

It took them a second, but once they realized your pun they broke down into giggles. Behind you, Papyrus screeched unintelligibly. Undyne made an annoyed groan, and Toriel was in a fit of giggled just like Frisk. 

You and Sans sat at the side of the room, then, as introductions finished up and the dancing started. Occasionally one of the other monsters would come over for a break and chat with you and Sans, but for the most part it was just you and the short skeleton talking and watching the others dance. You picked up that Undyne had a girlfriend names Alphys, but that she couldn't make it that day because she was busy with research. You also heard that Papyrus was actually dating the very popular Monster moviestar Mettaton... But you didn't bring it up because the look on Sans' face when it was brought up by Papyrus made it clear that Sans didn't like the stylis robot very much. At all. 

After the first hour or so, they started dragging you up to dance with them-- normal dances like your first dance with Papyrus, not magical ones. In fact, Papyrus was the first one you danced with because the others wanted to see proof that you were able to keep up with him while doing some complicated steps... They were very entertained by your display of grace. And that, of course, meant that they gushed over how well you danced even though you stumbled once this time. They assured you repeatedly that it was still an accomplishment to keep up with Papyrus at all doing a routine of that level. 

You had just finished very carefully doing a capoeira routine with Undyne when the door burst open. You were laughing at something Sans had said, completely unaware, when the cold voice that rang through the room cut through you. 

"What do you think you are doing making friends with these _creatures_?!" you were suddenly very still, and you could feel your breaths suddenly coming in shallow gasps. You were starting to hyperventilate. No, no, no. Why was she here? How did she find you? You didn't notice Sans looking at you, worry written all over his features. You didn't notice him standing up, or looking over your panicked face. You heard that cold, nasty, shrill voice call out your name angrily when you didn't turn around or answer her right away. That disgusting voice is what snapped you out of your slight panic attack. You took a deep breath, you straightened you back, and you snapped around to face her. Your face was blank of any emotion as you stared her down. 

"Mother," the word dripped from you mouth as if it was the most vile thing you had ever had to say. "These are my _friends_ , not 'creatures', and I will not tolerate you insulting them." 

"What? You little brat!" Your mother walked over to her, and you let her. You didn't move, you just stared her down as she stalked over to you, seething in anger. 

"I can speak to you however I want. I am an adult, and you no longer have any authority over me. There is a reason I never gave you my address," she was ten feet away now. "There is a reason I changed my phone number," seven feet. "There is a reason I refuse to speak or see you, and that reason is that I refuse to allow myself to be bullied by a racist cow any longer." 

You saw the slap coming. You did nothing to stop it. 

Your head didn't budge. You didn't give her the satisfaction; it had taken all the strength in yor head and neck, but you had managed to brave her backhand without letting your head snap to the side. You stared into her icy, cold eyes defiantly. 

"You are my daughter!" you hissed in your face, grabbing a chunk of your hair. "You will obey me, damn it! You do not call your mother names, you do not defy your mother. Clearly you have gotten wild ever since you ran away," you heard a little gasp from behind you. It was either Frisk of Toriel, perhaps both of them. Every single one of your new monster friends behind you was so tense it was nearly palpable. Even your mother seemed to feel the tension in the air, and she glared nervously over your shoulder at them. 

That is, until you boldly gripped her chin and turned her head so she was looking at you again.

"Get out." 

"Wha-" 

"I said get out," she swatted your hand away from her chin, but you let her. "I hope you relished that slap, because that's the only one you're getting. And don't call me your daughter anymore,  _Helen,_ because I stopped being your daughter the day I ran away from your damned house. You hold no power over me anymore. I am adult, I already went through school, I have a job, and I am independent of you in every way. The moment you step out of those doors, I am telling the owners of this studio about what you just did. I will give them your photo, and I will ask them to ban you from this studio so that you may never get past the entrance desk ever again. Then I am going to go to the police and request a restraining order for you because you walked into the studio that my friend's family owns, you interrupted a practice session between me and my friends, and you physically assaulted me." 

"You provoked me, it won't pass," she sneered, but her eyes held doubt.

"You provoked me first by insulting my friends. It will pass. Especially since I never raised a hand to hurt you, only to move your gaze from them to me since you were adamant on ignoring my polite request for you to leave in favor of glaring at them as if you were a prepubescent little girl who didn't get her way," she was so red in the face you thought that she was going to pop one of her veins with all that built up anger. "So I tell you again. Get out." 

Your biological mother lingered, seething, for another moment before storming out of the room. You went to the window at the wall and waited until you saw her get into her car and drive away before you slumped onto the ground, sapped of energy. You covered your face in your hands, but didn't cry. You were too shocked by what had just happened, too unbelieving that she had found you after all this time, that the tears just didn't come yet. They would later, you knew, probably when you were alone and curled up in bed. But they would come, and you would cry yourself to sleep. 

Not now, though. You forced youself to look up, and saw Sans, Papyrus, frisk, Undyne, and Toriel all sitting around you. They were quiet, respectful of your need for silence (though earlier you had just barely registered Sans and Toriel explaining this to Papyrus and Undyne, who had just wanted to loudly reassure and hug you right away) though you could see the worry written plainly on all of their faces. 

So you put on a very fake smile, trying to show that you were fine. Only you weren't, and they knew that now. 

"I'm sorry she said that stuff about you guys," you croaked, wincing when you realized your throat was a little sore. Probably from all that hyperventilating and very forced tone of voice. "She's the exact kind of person I hate most. No amount of convincing will be able to get her to see how amazing monsters are," you pinched the bridge of your nose, slumping back against the wall. "I hope you guys aren't too mad at me. I mean, if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have had to see that..." 

"Child," Toriel's tone was caring, but firm. It didn't allow any argument. "This isn't your fault. She is an awful woman," Toriel sighed. 

"'Sides," Sans drawled. Even though his tone was as lazy as usual, you could tell that he was still worried about you. His gaze was soft, after all, and his voice was slightly lower than usual in his consideration for you, knowing you didn't want to hear loud noises for a while after all that screeching that she-devil just did right in your face.  "You shouldn't be worrying about us. We've dealt with worse insults than that," even Papyrus nodded at this, so it didn't have the desired effect of reassuring you. Just the opposite, actually, when you thought of sweet, innocent Papyrus having to deal with bigots calling him all sorts of nasty names. "You're the one she slapped," Sans reminded you softly, and Toriel took your hand in her two paws. 

"Are _you_ okay?" Sans and Toriel asked at the same time. You looked between the both of them, eyes wide, before you broke. You just started crying, completely different from the few tears that had leaked in front of Sans the other day. You hadn't actually cried in front of another person, not even Max or Synthia, since you were a child. And now you were crying in front of a whole bunch of friends you had just met, and Toriel was sweeping you up into her warm embrace and letting you cry. Nobody was judging you, nobody was getting mad or yelling at you for being an overemotional brat just looking for attention. They were all just... comforting you.

God, how you hoped this friendship would last. Being cared for again... It felt so nice.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! A bit of an emotional chapter, and no detail on the dancing again, sorry. Hope you enjoyed it anyway! Also, comment below whether or not you think Frisk should be related to you. I havent decided yet. Thanks again guys! Love you! <3


	5. A "Dance"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Dance itself can have different meanings to different mindsets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Guys, I decided to link a smaller colorguard routine for this chapter. The first one had a lot going on, and people who aren't experienced in or used to Color Guard would have missed a LOT of what went on in that piece unless they watched it multiple times. So, I am providing you with a Color Guard duet this time. It isn't flawless, and the camera person is very adamant on focusing on one of the girls over the other (much to my annoyance), but it is a good routine. 
> 
> And seriously, they do a few very high level things there. I mean, do you know how hard it is to catch a flag that someone else is throwing to you? I've done it before, both from stance of the tosser and as the catcher. Practicing things like that involves a lot of running away, readjusting strength and trajectory, and panicked squeals.
> 
>  
> 
> <https://m.youtube.com/?#/watch?v=wj7jpYelQ8o>

You calmed down quick enough for them to still have about fifteen minutes of their reserved time left, but they refused to dance when you were so obviously distressed. Even after you had stopped crying and cleaned your face of tear tracks. They insisted on just sitting with you and talking for a while about happier subjects, and you were more than happy to just sit and listen. 

"And then Frisk puts her hands on either side of San's face, right?" Undyne was saying animatedly, "And they ask him what he is. So he says, 'I don't know kid. What am I?' and Frisk says..." On que, the young teen popped up and aggressively signed:

 **A SANSwich!**  Everyone except Papyrus laughed. The tall skeleton was sulking because he had to relive that, in his words, 'painful memory.' 

"UNDYNE, I DON'T SEE WHAT YOU FIND FUNNY ABOUT THAT. IT WAS HORRIBLE!" he complained. Undyne gave him a toothy grin. 

"Well, yeah. The joke was terrible, but it was so adorable to see!" Undyne looked at you, and raised an eyebrow. she said you name, pulling your gaze from Frisk to her. "Hey, punk. You alright? You've been staring at Frisk for a while now." 

"Oh!" you felt your cheeks heating up, and ran a hand through your hair meekly. "Sorry. Earlier I was positive I had never seen them before, but now they're looking pretty familiar," you admitted. You looked off towards the wall, trying to remember if you had ever met Frisk before. "I don't know why, though. I've definitely never met you after you broke all the monsters out of the underground, Frisk. But, for some reason I feel like I'm forgetting something important," you smiled weakly and shrugged. "But it's probably nothing. My memory plays tricks on me all the time, so..." this seemed to get Sans' attention, as he straightened up from his slumped position to the right of you. 

"Yeah?" he asked, though you could tell he was clearly trying to keep his interest out of his eyes. "Like what?" you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. 

"I don't know. For one, I have a whole bunch of memories from my childhood that nobody else ever remembers, even if they were a huge part of that memory. They even go so far as to swear it never happened. And I forget things really easily, or I think somebody already told me something even if we had never had a conversation about that topic before," you looked down at your feet. "Or I, like right now, swear that I've met somebody before even if there is no possible way we could have met. Or I..." you stopped talking. If they asked, you would say it, but you really hoped they wouldn't prod...

And everyone except Sans seemed to get that message. 

"Or you..?" he prodded. Honestly, where was that intelligence from the day before?

"Or I'm forgotten by people," you said softly. "I suppose it could just be their own memory acting up, or maybe I just wasn't memorable," you shrugged, looking up at them. "For example, I can still remember my best friend from second grade. I remember her name, her favorite color, and several things we did back then. But we met again just last year in the supermarket. I called her by her name, and she said, 'do I know you?' and at first I thought she ust needed a bit of reminding. You know, it was a long time ago so maybe she just needed her memory jogged, right? So I told her my name, and that we were best friends back in elementary. But she just gave me the strangest look and said that her best friend back then was a boy named Steven, and that they had never had a female friend," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "It was the most awkward conversation of my life." 

"Did they maybe just happen to be a different person with the same first name?" Toriel asked gently, but you shook your head with a sad downwards twist to your lips. 

"No. We had played a detective game a lot back then, so we would occasionally call each other by our last names like we were detectives. So I made sure to ask her, and she threatened to report me as a stalker because she apparently hadn't told anybody even vaguely resembling me her last name."

You saw that they all looked sympathetic and sad again, so you panicked. "O-oh! No, don't worry! It isn't a big deal, she's just one person!" you assured them. "I'm sorry I made the mood so sad again!" you bit your lip, thinking fast. 

It was because of your rush to find a remedy to the sudden melancholy air that you didn't notice Sans and Frisk sharing a glance. Or the look they both gave you. Indeed, they both knew that it couldn't have been just a coincidence or a trick of people's memories. They had no idea what it was yet, and you were clearly beyond clueless to it too, but you were somehow connected to resets and alternate timelines. Maybe, just like them, you could remember them. Maybe you were, like them, one of the few whose memories didn't reset with the timelines. Maybe you were also a Constant, or an Anomaly. 

And if you _were_ one or the other, maybe you had something else in common with one of them.

Soon enough you were able to change the subject, and the melancholy mood was remedied and replaced with laughs again. But their session ended only a few minutes later, so you had to follow them downstairs. 

That's where you saw Max at the entrance desk, and the memories of your mother's intrusion came back. You sighed, looking at your friends. 

"I'm going to have to make good on my promises to my mother, now," you said reluctantly. "Just let me tell Max about what happened so that he can make sure she can't come back. His family owns this place, so it shouldn't be too hard," they nodded in understanding. 

"That is smart," Toriel assured you. "We can wait outside for you if you would like to come have dinner with us?" the look of hope on her face was not something you had the heart to say no to. So you smiled and said: 

"Max is gonna be mad at me for missing my extra practice but... you know what? I haven't missed a rehearsal in years, so he can deal with it. I'll be happy to join you," they all looked so happy that your heart warmed. Yes, after the memories that that witch mother of yours dredged up? After the pain she made you remember and that demeaning slap? You deserved to relax and be happy with your friends some more. It didn't hurt that spending more time with them would be the exact opposite of what she would want you to do, too. 

* * *

 

Max was livid when he heard what you had to say. He didn't know the details of what she had done to you in the past, but he knew enough to know that she was the last person on this earth that you should ever have to see again. And when you told him that she had slapped you? He was so angry that he had one of the employees immediately take her picture off the security cameras and print out papers that said she was banned from entering the premisis. And then he went through the security footage again. Luckily the door to the practice room had been open the whole time, allowing one of the hallway cameras a perfect shot of her slapping you without much provocation or any retaliation. He made a copy and emailed it to you, giving you the perfect ammo to use against her for when you went to get a restraining order against her. Which, by the way, you made a mental note to do the next morning. 

When you told Max about going to dinner with your friends instead of practicing, he actually waved it off much to your surprise. 

"You could use a night off after that crap. We still won't reschedule the performance, but you've almost got the routine down anyway. If you come in early tomorrow I can get you out of work and we can fit i extra practice then."

"Thank you!" you told him sincerely. "Oh thank you, Max!" you hugged him, and he chuckled and patted your back awkwardly. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get sappy on me. It's nice to see you with new friends, anyway. Now go before they get tired of waiting!" 

You went. 

As you all walked, Sans and Frisk walked to either side of you. Frisk was on your right, the farthest away from the road, and Sans was on your left. Toriel, Papyrus, and Undyne walked in front of you and were involved in their own discussions... Though you did have to smile when you noticed that the way the three of them were walking, Toriel was in the middle, Papyrus was in front of Frisk on the right, and Undyne was in front of Sans on the left, closest to the road. 

 _So,_ you thought,  _Papyrus is the kid, Undyne is the chivalrous "male" character, and Toriel is the popular female. Heh._

Of course, you, Frisk, and Sans were also having a nice chat. 

 **Favorite Disney movie?** Frisk asked you. You smiled. 

"New or classic?" 

 **Both I guess,** Frisk signed after a moment of thought. You answered almost immediately: 

As far as newer movies go, probably Moana, but out of the classics I would have to go with Beauty and the Beast," you heard a chuckle to your left and looked over at sans with a raised eyebrow. 

"In Beauty and the Beast, the princess falls in love with a monster prince," he said, his smile seeming mischievous. "So I bet it's Frisk's favorite movie, too." 

You heard a strangled squeak of surprise come from them, and laughed as Frisk started indignantly signing back at Sans saying how they definitely weren't in love with anybody. 

"But Beast in Beauty and the Beast has horns and is covered in fur, just like a certain--" 

**Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!**

You were laughing so hard you had to clutch your stomach, even if you didn't know who they were arguing about. Frisk's reaction and Sans' smug shit-eatiness was just so funny to hear and see. 

"What about you?" This time Sans was talking to you, not Frisk. You slowly stopped laughing and tilted your head at him. "Do you have a crush?" you almost snorted, but stopped yourself in time and scoffed instead. 

"You kidding? My life is pretty much just dance. I work at the studio in the morning, practice dancing starting at about two or two thirty-- we started early today since there wasn't much work to do, don't worry-- and I get paid to handle the scheduling of a few dance classes and the time tables for room rentals. I do that at home. That's pretty much all I do, aside from the usual chores that come with life," you shrugged. Sans looked shocked. 

"Really? Don't you have family?" he winced. "Other than that bitch, I mean." 

Sans pointedly ignored Frisk's signing that he owed the Swear jar a dollar when they got to Toriel's house. 

You shook your head. "Nah. And don't worry, I don't count her as family. And my apartment doesn't allow pets, so that's a no too." 

"Huh. Well, that dillemma will probably be solved soon," Sans said nonchalantly as he tucked his hands behind his head. 

"What do you mean?" you were confused. Frisk giggled next to you. 

**He means that we just met, so we're just friends _right now_. But if you stick around for a while you'll eventually become part of _our_ family. **

You stopped walking for a second in shock, but your brain soon caught up again and you resumed walking. 

"You guys... would really want to be my family?" you asked, incredulous. Sans looked over at you, looking lazier than usual with his hands still behind his head.

"Sure, once we get to know you a bit better. Though honestly, it would take a lot to get us to stay merely friends. Especially after that little episode earlier," he furrowed his eyebrow bones. "You defended us, after all. I don't know if you noticed, but not many people do that for monsters. And I have a sneaking suspicion that you're the one we have to thank for your friend Max and the entire studio being so open minded and monster friendly."

"Oh, not at all!" you didn't feel like you deserved all this praise. "Max has always been open minded. He's the one that first mentioned how angry he was about the discrimination, back when it first surfaced a few weeks after you guys escaped the underground. Until he spoke up, I hadn't even noticed monsters existed yet!"

"Really?" Sans looked skeptical. "You didn't notice the giant hole in the side of Mt. Ebott, or the strange monsters suddenly walking down the streets, or the giant earthquake that happened when the barrier broke?"

"I was pretty numb to everything that wasn't ramen, ice cream, or my bed back then," you admitted shyly. "Three years ago I was in a pretty bad place. I'm better now, but back then it would take nothing less than a declaration of armageddon to drag me away from my apartment. At least, during that month that you guys escaped anyway."  

Sans hummed in understanding. "Well, I still think that you are way more passionate about equality and finding an end to discrimination. He might have started your interest, but I think you're the one that got absorbed in it," he let his arms fall down to his sides, eyeing you out of the corner of his eyesockets. You sighed, but you saw that Frisk was eagerly nodding in agreement and you gave up trying to convince them that you weren't as amazing or admirable as they were suggesting. 

Then Toriel and the others in front of you changed course and turned to the right to walk up onto a house's porch. You stopped for a minute, blinking as you saw the familiar setting. 

"Oh my god," you said softly. "You've got to be kidding me." 

Sans and Frisk turned to look back at you-- they had walked a few steps ahead of you before noticing you weren't following. After all, it was a normal house in a normal neighborhood. A lot nicer than what most monsters could get, but as a whole it was pretty standard. 

But it was in the neighborhood you constantly told Max and Synthia that you would move into eventually when you became a famous dancer and got rich... which obviously wasn't going to happen. 

So you explained to them the other reason, the primary reason really, why you were so shocked Toriel lived here. 

"My apartment complex is literally just a few blocks away down there," you pointed down the street to your left, in the opposite direction from where you came. Sans was the first one to recover from shock and start laughing. Toriel and the others had heard what you said too, and also started laughing a few seconds after Sans.  

"Oh my!" Toriel said in between giggles that were covered by a furry paw. 

"Okay, I understand that it's weird, but why is it funny?" you asked them, confused now. 

"Papyrus and I just moved into that apartment complex this morning," Sans answered, his perma-smile practically stretching from one nonexistent ear to the other now. "And Undyne and Alphys live three houses down fom Toriel," he pointed down the neghborhood's side street that stretched in front of you now. 

It took you a while to process that Sans and Papyrus would be living in the same building as you. By the time you processed it, you were already in a very cozy house and seated at a long wooden table covered in spots by white lace plate mats. 

* * *

 

The dinner was delicious. You sat and talked to everyone happily, the frustrating stuation from earlier long forgotten. For the moment. The discrimination that they faced every day was put aside as you all had a nice evening, and you even indulged Frisk, Undyne, and Papyrus by playing some video games with them after supper. The danger monsters risked every time they walked outside seemed nonexistent. 

For the moment. 

Then, it was time for you all to head home. For Undyne, that meant suffering as everybody walked her to her house. Even two houses was a distance best observed rather than letting a monster walk it alone at night. Even if they were the former head of the royal guard. For Frisk and Toriel, going home ment walking back from escorting Undyne and waving bye to you, Sans, and Papyrus before heading back inside.

For you it meant walking back to the building you were now sharing with those exact two skeletons.  

After all, the only other Apartment complex within five miles of Toriel's house was in the opposite direction. It could _be_ no other apartment building that they moved into. 

"So," you said absently, staring up at the stars while you three walked. It was only seven thirty, but it was dark and the street you were walking down was devoid of any traffic apart from the very occasional lone car. "What floor are you guys on?" you asked to fill the silence. Even Papyrus had had nothing to talk about yet. So, unused to silence, he was the one that answered you. 

"THE FOURTH FLOOR! IT WAS VERY HARD TO GET ALL OUR STUFF UP THAT HIGH, BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS MANAGED! NO THANKS TO SANS. THE LAZYBONES DIDN'T HELP AT ALL!" 

"Not true," Sans argued. "I carried my trash tornado up." 

"Trash tornado?" you were confused; how was such a thing possible? Magic. That could be the only explanation. 

Papyrus groaned. "THAT DOESN'T COUNT, SANS! I WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPIER IF YOU HAD LEFT THAT UNDERGROUND, HONESTLY," Papyrus turned to you. "HIS ROOM WAS SO MESSY DOWN THERE THAT IT CREATED A TRASH TORNADO. NOW HE MOVES IT INTO THE ROOM OF EVERY HOUSE OR APARTMENT WE MOVE INTO UP HERE."

"Uhh, Paps... How many times have you guys moved up here?" you asked cautiously, worried for them. Maybe monster intolerance forced them to move often. 

"ONLY TWICE; ONCE WHEN WE FIRST CAME UP, AND THE SECOND TIME TODAY. BUT STILL, I HAVE A FEELING HE IS ATTACHED TO THAT NASTY THING." 

"It has _smell_ timental value," Sans said, not missing a beat. You smirked, but you were still watching the surroundings. Papyrus wasn't, he was too annoyed with Sans and busy telling him how puns weren't quality humor. Sans was too busy listening to his brother and letting Papyrus's words roll off him with a smile, occasionally giving him another pun in response. 

That was why you were the first to notice the danger. In order to reach your apartment building's entrance you had to turn down a side road, which of course meant that there were even less possibilities of any witnesses when the three people walked out from an alley in front of you. You didn't notice any problem at first, but the brothers on either side of you were still going back and forth when one of the people pulled a knife casually. You barely saw the glint of the steel in the darkness, and by the way the guy's two friends covered him from view on either side, you could tell what they were going to try to do. 

They were aiming to "casually" stab Papyrus in the side as they passed you. With one of them covering the knife-weilder from one side and the other covering them from the side closest to Sans you knew that they were in a formation to obscure the knife from the view of any witnesses or cameras nearby so there would be no concrete evidence of their would-be crime. 

You looked at Sans, but he wasn't paying attention to you and you couldn't make a scene or they would get away. You huffed, and waited a few seconds. You begged in your mind that they would reconsider and walk away, but they didn't. When they came within striking distance, you struck first. You wouldn't let them hurt innocent, sweet Papyrus. 

Your hand whipped out, grabbing the knife wielder's wrist. You smiled at him falsely, an old habit you hadn't been able to shake. You'd always smiled at people when you were mad at them... Was that creepy? 

"I'm sorry," you're voice sounded plastic even to your own ears. "I'm glad I saw you in time, you almost made a big mistake," you felt your voice sink into a very familiar cold tone, one you had wished you would never have had to use again. You felt Sans' own anger beside you; he had seen your hand lash out, and he had very quickly realized what had almost happened. Even though you knew why he was so angry, it was still a bit unsettlng to feel the air around him turn so cold that it raised goosebumps on your skin. You had heard that some people could get angry enough to make the area around them feel colder, but this was the first time you ever experienced it. Papyrus, on the other and, just looked startled and a bit sad. 

"Human," he said uncharacteristically soft. "You can let go of him now," you looked up at Papyrus, shocked, but when you saw his eyes you understood. He was too sweet to hold a grudge against anybody even if they tried to hurt him. You ground your teeth, your grip just growing tighter around the knife-wielder's wrist. "Dancing human," Papyrus said softly, "You are hurting him."

You noticed the man had tears forming, but was too proud to release them. The first thought you had, though, was that it wasn't nearly the amount of pain he deserved. You looked back at Sans, but he just glanced from you to the other two guys that had stopped when their buddy was grabbed. Soon their fear of you and your cold tone would ebb, and they would attack. Your and Sans' gazes met again, and you nodded at each other. Turning back to the knife wielder, you took his knife and let go of his wrist. 

"You won't need this. It doesn't do anybody any good," your voice was just barely above a hiss. You turned and tossed it, letting it fly across the street and slide under a dumpster in the alley on that side. "Oh, look. My aim's pretty good," you dusted off your hands, and met the previous knife-wielder's now angry gaze. "Papyrus," you looked up at the taller skeleton. "Back up a bit." 

"B-BUT, HUMAN," Papyrus was pure, not dumb. He had seen the exchange between you and Sans. "ISN'T THERE ANOTHER WAY WE CAN--" 

He was cut off when the three lunged at once, and you pushed him behind you. You saw a blue glow to your left just as you tripped the man who had come at you and Papyrus. You looked back just in time, your left hand swinging out to catch Sans' arm. He had lifted it, and it was glowing blue now along with his left eye. His right eye was eerily devoid of light.

"Sans!" you couldn't tell if he was looking at you or not since he didn't move his head and the lack of light in his right eye held back any possible hint. "You can't use magic! Keep an eye on Paps--" you felt a fist hit your gut, but you braved it, tearing your eyes away from Sans. "Just back up! If you two stay out of the way, I can handle this!"

"You sure?" You took another punch to the gut before you lashed out and grabbed a handful of hair, pushing the culprit's head down so his face hit the sidewalk.

"Yes!"

Finally not needing to worry too much about them, you straightened and assessed the situation.

Man to the right trying to pass you. Man to the left trying to sneak up on you. Man trying to get up below you. Which one the biggest threat?

The one on the right.  

You took a deep breath, and entered a similar frame of mind to the one that took you over when you danced. In an instant you realized what you needed to do. 

In a move eerily similar to a degage you kicked the face of the man on the ground in front of you, slowing down his rise, at the same time that you turned and moved towards the man trying to pass you. You reached across him, grabbing his shoulder that was farthest from you, forcing our arm to be flush across his chest and your body to be directly at the side of his and facing the opposite direction. This looked like a position from a partner dance. Using the strength in your surprisingly strong arms and dancer-strong torso, you bent yourself sharply at the hip, bringing your arm down with you. The sudden pressure forced the man backwards; he wasn't without a good amount of muscle, but he had been entirely unprepared for such an odd strike. He landed on his back, his knees bent under him. The man who had been trying to sneak up on your left had charged a moment earlier, and now tripped over your bent-over form, landing on the opposite side of the man you were holding to the ground. With your free hand you smashed the back of the guy's head into the concrete, careful to use just enough force to knock him out. You recieved a kick in the side for your trouble, the man who had been on the ground now up and back in the fight, and Sans' warning coming a second too late. 

You hit the ground on your side, and quickly ground your teeth to bare the pain and rolled onto your back. The man above saw this as a moment of weakness, but right as he took out a second knife and loomed over you, you made a 'tsk' sound and wrapped your ankles around one of his, sweeping his feet from under him for the second time. He hadn't been counting on your ability to twist your torso so you could bend your legs and sweep his ankles to the side even though he had been just slightly out of your arm's reach at the time and to your right. The other guy had also gotten up, so in a very hip-hop fashion you swung yourself to your feet and used the flexibility in your legs to kick that guy in the face. The nose, to be exact, which made a crunching noise that made you and the two skeletons standing back wince in sync despite the situation. The man howled, and you cursed yourself under your breath. You didn't have time to regret your momentary forgetfulness of the strength in your legs, though.

The last guy, the one you had tripped twice, managed to make a thin slice in your arm as you tried to dodge his lunge at you, and you wasted no time in taking a step back and turning your body, looping your arm around his head and quickly dropping into a squat. With his head in your grip his balance was off, and his feet slid on the sidewalk and allowed his body to come following where you had tugged its head. Once you were at the lowest point of your squat you let go of him, and slammed your elbow down-- controlling your strength-- into his ear. When his head hit the concrete, he was knocked out.

You stood up, and looked at the one with the broken nose. You gestured to his two friends passed out on the cold sidewalk.

"You're already in a lot of pain there, buddy," the lack of warmth in your voice didn't match the words. "I can knock you out, and therefore solve that little problem for a while, or you can wait here patiently until the cops arrive," you nodded to Sans, who waggled his phone for the last guy standing to see. "While we were dancing here, I heard him make the call. You see, my friends here aren't idiots. They're normal people, just like you and me... except, well," you looked him up and down. "They're better people than you are. And you know," you walked until you were only two or three feet away from him, a close enough distance to cross easily if he made the wrong move. "People like you hurt innocents like them every day. Don't you have the slightest shred of guilt?" your voice as barely above a whisper. Papyrus said something, but you didn't listen. You were looking straight into the man's eyes as he held his nose and tears of pain streamed down his face.   

His eyes were cold, unforgiving. You had a knack for reading people, and that was exactly what you were doing now. For you, people's personalities were a fun puzzle to solve by looking at a person's expressions, body language, word choice, and actions, but the particular look in their eyes in any given situation was the most telling for you. 

And in his eyes? In his eyes you saw somebody who knew what he was doing. Who wasn't sorry, who would never change his opinion no matter what you told him. 

But the most important thing you saw in his eyes, the thing you were looking for, was that little spark. It wasn't a good spark; it was dull. It was the dull spot that told of seeing exactly what they were doing. Of knowing first hand what they could and were doing. 

He had done it before, that spark told you. 

He had succeeded before, that little dull spot whispered. 

He didn't care about their lives, his glare nailed into your mind. 

"Who was it last time?" you whispered, unaware of Sans' gaze suddenly snapping to you. He had seen the man's EXP, so he had known that he had to have killed at least once before. But what about you? He had no idea how you had known. 

"Was it the Vegetoid they declared missing last week?" no recognition flashed in the man's eyes. Nope. "What about the froggit outside the school they saw on video tape turning to dust for seemingly no reason? I think two people passed him right before he died, but they couldn't be IDed," recognition. "Ah. I see. You pick on the ones you think are clueless, huh?" you leaned back, rocking on your heels. 

"Well, you see. I have several points to make here. One: Killing people does nothing but give you momentary satisfaction. It just piles up this thing we call karma. Eventually, Karma will come knocking on your demanding payment for the lives you have taken, and when you open that door it punches you in the face. Two: Papyrus is not clueless. Three: You should have walked away when you saw that there was more than one person with him. You see, you can make it so your target can't react in time, and you can make one person look away, but if there is a third person-- well, there's never a guarantee they will do what you plan for them to. And I didn't," you stared him down for another moment. 

"Four: You could have run away while I was talking," flashing lights turned on a few feet way. You had been signing letters behind your back, telling Sans to tell the cops that were still on the line to come silently. Now they were here, they had obviously gotten the message right in time. "But now you can't."

* * *

 

The cops had the three men cuffed and in the back seat of their cruiser when one of the officers came to take our statements. Papyrus went first, keeping his voice below its normal volume, and then Sans went. You gave your statement last, and turned to join the skeleton brothers. You were halfway to them when the officer jogged up, telling you that you hadn't given your name. 

"Oh," you hated it, but it would help if they had your name for the record. You sighed, and told him. 

As you expected, his eyebrows shot up. 

"As in-" you cut him off before he could say your father's name. 

"Yeah, yeah," your voice betrayed how exhausted you were. Anger and fighting were both very tiring. "You can leave my name out of it if it makes the jury question the validity of my statement, right?"

"You're assuming they don't plead guilty," he gently reminded you. Before you could tell him that they won't, he kept talking. "Besides, if you were always defined by your parents the world would be devoid of all hope," you smirked at this, and you and the skeleton brothers finally were able to get into your aparment building. 

You got up to the fourth floor. You were at the end of the hall, several doors away from Papyrus and Sans, but on the same floor nonetheless. Papyrus went in their apartment first, but Sans hung outside in the hallway with you. 

"Hey," he said softly. "Why was your fighting so... similar to dance?" you raised your eyebrows at this, knowing that monsters used dance to fight too. 

"There isn't much of a line diving the two, even for humans," you explained with a shrug. "For us, though, you have to have a certain mindset to put dance to use as self defence. And most people can't even begin to think up ways to do that with moves from normal ballroom dances. Things like capoiera or breakdancing are easier for people's minds to translate into violence, but every dance has that potential," you explained patiently before yawning. Sans' gaze dropped to the center of your chest, but you didn't call him out for it because his gaze told you that he wasn't looking at your boobs. In fact, you couldn't really tell _what_ he was looking at, but it was something you clearly could not see. Then he looked up into your face, still grim. 

"Can we... talk sometime? Not now, because its late but..." 

"My practice tomorrow ends at five. Wanna grab dinner at the diner again?" Sans shook his head.

"Nah, you already showed me your favorite place to eat. Tomorrow lets go to mine. I want to be comfortable, I don't really think either of us is gonna enjoy that conversation," he admitted. You sighed. It was fair, though. You had already taken him to the place where you were most comfortable, so it was only fair to go to his favorite place. Especially if he was going to talk about something heavy. 

"I'll be at the studio. Need me to meet you anywhere?" 

"Nah, I'll meet you at the studio." 

With that, you all went to your own apartments, and your own respective bedrooms, and fell asleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BY THE WAY! Yes, your mom's name is Helen. However, that is just a /reference/ to the PTA tale comics, this is actually a different Helen.


	6. One Mask Removed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title of this story has multiple meanings, people. But this chapter title... not as much ;P 
> 
> It definitely isn't super straightforward though. The mask removed is not literal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lalalala. Sorry for the four day hiatus, guys. Oh my gosh, I know, it was a lifetime. Honestly, my sleeping schedule is screwed up and it takes me at least three hours to crank out each chapter so I have prioritized getting my sleep schedule back on track.
> 
> Yeah that didn't work, so I'm back to writing from two until five in the morning and sleeping in until like two in the afternoon. 
> 
> Skipping color guard video b/c I'm lazy.
> 
> ALSO! WARNING! MAJOR TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER. SKIP WHERE INDICATED IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY VIOLENCE, ABUSE, AND/OR NEGLECT. SERIOUSLY. RECAP WILL BE IN THE END NOTES.

You knew your day was going to be leaning towards the horrible side from the moment you woke up. It was pretty easy to tell since you woke up gasping, in a cold sweat, and barely holding back from tears because of a memory-based nightmare. 

You slipped out of your bed, deciding that coffee would not be the best choice to start off this particular day. It would not calm down your nerves; so instead you chose one of the herbal teas you had in your cabinet. You made sure to select the one that had the best mixture of calming properties from the herbs and the scent with the caffeine to wake you up. Once you were no longer shaking and on the verge of sobs or a panic attack, you got dressed and started your day.

You got to the studio at the bright and early hour of eight in the morning, and started your office work there. You manned the front desk while also watching the time tables to make sure classes and room rentals were on schedule and taking care of paperwork. When lunch came and went, Max stole you away into an open practice room and got you dancing. You didn't even pay your heels or the sadistically hard maneuvers any attention this time. Your nightmare was still heavy on your mind, and you needed every possible distraction to keep you out of the depression you knew you could easily sink back into.

In all reality, you had been prescribed pills for depression. It was just that, in the past two and a half years, your work with trying to end discrimination followed by the much more recent birth of "La Venganza," had pulled you into a better place to where you no longer felt the need to take the pills. You still had them in your cabinet, but you hadn't taken them for over a year.

And now that your past was creeping back up, you wondered if you should start back up on them. You were painfully aware of how thin the line was between your emotions being stable and the plunge back into the darkness of major depression right then. It would only take one or two more frustrating events to send you hurtling back down the mountain you had climbed to become emotionally stable.  

"No, no!" you heard Max. "You're doing much better, but you have to take smaller steps. Quicker, though. Double time it, small but fast steps. Step-step-step-step-step. Good!" you let his loud, confident voice keep you tethered. You would not slip. You _wouldn't_ fall back down to that dark valley of helplessness. 

Five o'clock came far faster than you were ready for, but the dance had come along beautifully and Max had deemed you ready for the performance the next day. The success had lifted you safely back up from the dangerous edge you had been poised on. The memory of the nghtmare was still there, but it was no longer clouding your thoughts. It had become akin to background noise.

You trotted down the steps after changing into jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt. True to whta he had said the night before, Sans was waiting at the entrance to the studio. You smiled at him for a moment, but the grim look on his face made it slip away. He wasn't angry or anywhere near the state he had been during the attack, but he definitely wasn't in a good mood either. That was when you remembered that he had said the discussion you were going to have wasn't going to be a fun one for either of you.

So, you took a deep breath and forced a small nervous grin on your lips. 

"Okay. Let's go."

* * *

Sans looked at you, his eye lights scanning. You obviously weren't in the best of moods, despite the bright smile you had originally given him. But, even knowing that you probably hadn't been having the best day, he couldn't bring himself to care very much. Sure, part of him did. The part that liked you. But most of him? The part that knew what he had seen in your soul? That part was very reluctant to trust you at the moment, and had distanced itself as a form of self preservation. He didn't want to get close to you only to have you stab him in the back-- whether that be literal or not. 

He walked beside you to Grillby's, this time taking the side farthest from the street to see your reaction. You didn't outwardly seem to notice the insinuation, but he knew otherwise. He knew that you perfectly understood that he didn't want to be in a position where you could, hypothetically, push him into the street. 

He knew you understood that he wasn't trusting you. 

He kept his gaze on you the whole time, only sparing half his attention to your surroundings so he didn't slam into anything or anybody. So he saw when your mood dropped, he saw when you began to get a little nervous. He didn't miss your little nervous tics; how you would occasionally run your fingers through your hair, or smooth a nonexistent wrinkle in your clothes, or tug the back of your shirt down to cover the top of your jeans. He didn't miss the occasional glances you stole at him, or the deep breaths you would take every block or so. 

He could tell you were nervous about the discussion to come, and it just made him nervous, too. Nervous about what he might hear. Afraid that the small part of him that liked you and wanted to trust you would be betrayed or disappointed. 

Afraid of what he might have to say or do. 

The others had already become so attached to you. If you couldn't be trusted, how would he be able to convince them not to contact you anymore? 

Finally, the two of you reached Grillby's. The greetings everyone gave Sans as he walked through flew right through both of you. Sans only acknowledged them with his usual smile, faked this time of course, and the occasional nod. 

Nobody greeted you. 

Sans chose a booth close to the bar, but out of the way. The both of you ordered, and by now he could see that your anxiety made you completely ignore the sight of the impressive fire elemental that would have otherwise intrigued you to no end. 

When did Sans begin to understand you so well as to know that fact? 

It didn't matter. Neither of you said a word until your food arrived and Grillby was back behind the bar. That was when Sans leaned back, fiddling with the ketchup bottle. 

"How much do you know about souls?" he asked softly, startling you out of your thoughts. He wondered briefly what you had been thinking about, and then discarded that passing thought. You sighed, and pretended to pick through your fries though you didn't make a move to eat any yet. 

"Not much, just the basics. That they exist, that their colors represent a human's dominant personality trait, and that they are the culmination of our beings," you told him with a shrug. "And that monster souls are white, upside down hearts."

Sans nodded, what you knew was pretty common knowledge, but it was something to start with. 

"Well. Monsters can see souls. In fact, if you were ever to fight a monster, the Soul would be what would be attacked. With me so far?" You nodded, understanding and... fear crossing your face along with some light curiosity. 

"That's what you were looking at last night?" you asked him, and he nodded, slightly impressed that you not only noticed but remembered _and_ made the connection. "What... What color is my soul?" He blinked, not exactly surprised by your question but still not quite ready for it since he had been more focused on what else he had to explain to you. He answered anyway. 

"Well. It is primarily dark blue, which means Integrity. However, there are also shards of magenta, which suggest a cross between perserverance and determination. This would most likely mean that another dominant trait of yours, though less dominant than Integrity, is dedication or passion." 

You nodded, but frowned. "Shards?" you asked softly, and Sans hummed for a second in thought. 

"That's the best way to explain it, yes. It could mean that your dominant trait was originally this passion or dedication, but that something happened to destroy the dominance it had in your personality, replacing it with Integtrity," he studied your reaction, and saw understanding seep into your eyes. You rubbed your temples for a moment, and then focused on him again. 

"Okay. So we know the color of my soul now. That isn't what you wanted to discuss though," you phrased it as a statement, and Sans nodded to affirm your thoughts. 

"Right. Most monsters can only see the color of your soul, though more powerful monsters can see other qualities of your soul as well. These are what we call Stats. Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne-- they can all see one of these. That would be your HP, which determines how close or far you are from death." 

"So my health," Sans nodded. 

"Basically, yes. However, there are two other stats that very few monsters can see. Those would be your LV and EXP. I am one of the few that can see these," he explained. "They're acronyms," he leaned forward now, his gaze heavier on you. "LV stands for Level of Violence. It depicts your capability to cause harm, or how easily you can hurt others. EXP stands for EXecution Points. It shows if you have killed anybody."

He saw your reaction. He could see as your eyes widened, as your skin paled, he could even sense that you had grown cold-- in fear or realization or shock, he couldn't tell. But you slumped forward, elbows on the table and the look in your eyes one that you might wear if you were facing execution soon. You were resigned, and he could tell you were expecting the worst from him. He could tell you were waiting for him to judge you, to tell you to leave and never see any of them again. 

Yet he couldn't get wrapped up in your expressions. He still didn't know what to expect from you. Were you going to stab them in the back, or did you have an explanation? 

"Say it, Sans," your voice was rough and slightly hoarse. You were definitely expecting the worst. Expecting that he would walk away and take all of your new friends, and therefore the care and love you had just experienced for the first time in years, with him. "Say exactly what you saw, or ask me exactly what you want to know. Spell it out." 

"You have EXP," he said softly, his voice only loud enough for you to hear. "Your LV is at two. It isn't high, but it is not a change in the right direction. Not in the least," he stared at you a moment longer. "Why? Who did you kill?" you pushed your fries away, no longer hungry. Sans understood that it was storytime. Your explanation was obviously not going to be simple. 

**IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED BY VIOLENCE AND ABUSE, SKIP NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR BITCHING. THANK YOU.**

"Sans," you breathed out, barely above a whisper and your voice carrying so much pain he almost wanted to forget hearing the story. Almost. But he needed to know. He needed to know if being friends with you would put him and his friends in danger. "Let me start by telling you that it was in no way an enjoyable experience, and it is not easy to talk about. Also, it was a human, not a monster, that I... killed," the word dripped from your mouth as if it was something disgusting you had just tasted. "But the explanation of what exactly happened will have to wait. For it to make sense, I have to explain what led up to it. 

"As you saw, my mother is a shitty parent. My childhood was... not fun. My biological father had left shortly after I was born, and my step dad came into the equation. He was... amazing. He was everyting a father should be. Only, growing up, I had extremely bad asthma. It didn't act up as much during exercise as it did whenever I was exposed to allergens in the air, or any type of fur or animal hair or anything of the sort. So my parents kept me locked inside. The only times I ever went outside was on the trip to the car, and from out of the car and into school. My step dad had been the reason I was even allowed this; if he hadn't been there, my mother would have forced me to be homeschooled. 

"Then, as a child, my mom put me into ballet. She had an instructor come over to my house, teach me for hours every day. Every weekend she would put on a show for her friends-- very important people in the business and wedding planning industry and such. She would show me off like one of those ballerinas that spins when you open a music box. I would preform, and then be shut away. Then, when I was ten, my step father died. When my step father died, my mother got worse. She immediately got be homeschooled, she boarded up my windows to 'make sure no stray breezes got in,' and she would leave me locked in my room for most of the day. I only left my room to enter the room next door, where I would recieve my ballet lessons, or to the dining room for dinner. I had a bathroom inside my bedroom. The only other time I left my room was for the weekend performances, which got more and mrome frequent. 

"Within a year, I was nothing more than a doll for her to show off. My biological father came back. He lived with us. He... is infamous in this town because..." you paused to clear your throat and run a hand through your hair. "six months after he moved in with us, he killed his first person. He was a psycopath. Completely uncaring for anybody's life or emotions. Everytime my mother invited people to watch one of my shows, he would invite some random people to come too. Then he would keep them until after the show and he would drug them and wait until my mother either left the house or was asleep. Then he killed them, after they woke up. I didn't hear anything, the first two or three times he did that. I was oblivious just like my mother and... everybody else. But one day, he decided to kill one of them in my practice room. Where I was instructed in ballet every morning.

"I heard it all... through the walls. It was horrendous. The begging, the crying, the cussing..." you pinched the bridge of your nose, but your eyes were dry. You had relived these moments so many times that you didn't have any tears left anymore. "He realized by how I behaved the next morning that I had heard everything. He was so sickeningly happy. He would do all of his murders in that room right next to mine, and then he would come in the next day and talk about it as if it was the most amazing thing in the world. That was all he did regarding me, at first. Made me listen to the murders as they happened and then to him as he recounted everything he did and enjoyed about it. Of course, he also watched me very closely, made sure I had no possible contact with anybody who I could tell to get him arrested. He sat in on my ballet lessons. Then he came into my room one night, convinced that I was just like him," your scowl right as you said those words, the disgust in your voice... it was shocking for Sans to see those expressions on your normally calm and happy face. "He told me that I was going to do the next one on my own. He... he brought a girl around my age, maybe a little older, and said it should be easier for me to kill somebody who was closer to my age. I refused. I-I tried to protect her, I tried so _damn_ hard," your hands clenched on the table. "I was unbound for once, so I got in front of her and I was able to hang on to her and absorb my father's blows at first, but he eventually pried me off. He shoved the knife in my hand, and he pushed me on top of her. I--I hadn't let go of the knife on time.

"I had been so confused by being pulled away from her that my brain hadn't registered what he had just done. I landed on top of her, but I had braced myself to land on the floor. The position of my... m-my h-hands," the tears finally came. This was one thing that would never leave you unscarred, and reliving it just made it worse. "The way that I had landed... h-had forced the knife into her chest. I-I was so devastated. I... I grew numb for a moment, I was so young, I had no idea what to do! By the time I had mentally recovered enough to move again, she was already dead. I grabbed the knife, and charged at my father. I didn't realize it at the time, but my ballet came in handy. I was able to dodge him, though he was far stronger and fast than me and I only landed one strike. A stab to his arm. While he was cursing in pain, I pickpocketed his phone, ran out the door, and called the cops. He was arrested and given life in prison," you were shaking, silent tears tracking down your cheeks. 

It was a melodramatic past, but it happened to more people than most realized. People always stressed how you couldn't believe you were inulnerable because you could always be a victim... but they never stressed how somebody close to you could easily be the culprit. How easily you could become the family member of a killer. 

**SAFE TO RESUME. NO MORE TRIGGERS.**

Sans was silent, his eye lights dim. He believed you; he wasn't somebody who was easy to lie to, after all. He was so in shock and trying to process the story you had just told him when you stood up and wiped your tears off angrily with a napkin. When you carefully placed money on the table, all he could do was stare at you, still not completely done processing your story. 

"Here's the money for my fries. Its not fair for you to pay if I didn't eat any, after all. And... I understand, if you want me to stay away from all of you. I'm, heh, pretty broken after all. I'm lucky Mark and Synthia are still my friends, though they didn't meet me until I was in highschool and it had been several years since that whole ordeal. I'm... uh... gonna go," you moved to leave, but Sans was quick to stand up and grab your wrist. 

"...No, It's okay. We both need to go do something a little lighter after that... If we were around a campfire, I would tell you it was just a scary story you made up. C'mon, you could use some fresh air."

He dragged you outside, and completely missed the look of relief that flashed over your face.

He didn't blame you.

Oh, thank God. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RECAP for those that skipped the triggers. 
> 
> Basically, your motherneglected you and hardly let you outside EVER, made you train in ballet via an instructor she brought to the house since you were really little, and showed you off constantly (still while inside your prison of a house) before locking you in your room again. Major neglect. Then your biological father comes back into the picture after leaving you as a kid, and commits murders. Tries to get you to kill a little girl, you resist, he shoves a knife in your hand and shoved you on top of her. You accidentally kill her. Stab the bastard, call 911, and he is arrested. 
> 
> That is as censored as I can make it.


	7. Revolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Okay, I have some stuff about this story to tell you, but FIRST! I made an endnote in chapter 2, but I have a sneaking suspicion most of you skipped it. -.-' so I want to reiterate; thank you for your corrections on my spelling and grammar (there were a lot made by you guys), but as I stated before all of these chapters are first drafts. I will only make corrections to things that are big mistakes and/or may greatly hinder the understanding of the text. While I appreciate corrections in spelling and grammar, I am well aware that there are a lot. Seriously. Please refrain from correcting things in posts unless you see it as a legitimately bad mistake or problem, so that I can fix them. The smaller problems will be fixed when the story is finished and I make my way through it to correct those. Thank you!  
> Now~ my friends, my amazing readers. You had some pretty strong reactions to the story you told Sans in the last chapter. Most of you simply said "wow." And one word responses like that make me all warm and fuzzy! But. Do not think that you have "yourself" figured out in this story yet! In this story, the title is "Masks and Meanings" for a reason, and the previous chapter title was also given for a REASON. In the story title, "Masks" is plural, but in the chapter title for the previous chapter, it isn't. There are many secrets left to be revealed; and there is foreshadowing in the last chapter. I will give a shout out to the first person to comment on which of Sans' lines in the last chapter holds the most important foreshadowing. It might not be a dialog line, it might be a line simply during his POV. Or I might be misleading you again, who knows? 
> 
> Happy hunting!  
> OHHHHHHHH! Before I forget. This chapter is all warm and fuzzies for the amazing Marionette1, who is was going through some tough stuff. Some plot is still here, but as Sans said, we all need a break after that heavy story. Here you go, Marionette! I didn't forget about you ;P
> 
> And sorry if my fuzziness sucks x.x I am sometimes too serious. 
> 
> Color guard video of le chapter~ because basics are important :P
> 
>  
> 
> <https://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=6VpESrZHwpo>

  
Sans led you away, leading you through the darkening city streets. The quiet hung in the air between you, though more out of watchfulness than awkwardness. Without Papyrus to happily distract you, you both had your eyes (or eye sockets in Sans' case) scanning around you. Any would-be attackers quickly noticed both of your vigilance and steered away from you two. Soon the bulk of the buildings were behind you, and concrete seamlessly blended into nature until it became grass under your shoes. He continued to lead you vaguely in the direction of Mount Ebbot before veering away to take you up onto a hill.

"Here," he told you softly, plopping down unceremoniously onto the grass. He tilted his skull up to gaze at the sky, the sun having set an hour ago. Between your dinner left uneaten, your story, and the walk, a lot of time had passed. "This was the first place I came after we escaped the underground. Papyrus had run off, eager to make his first impression on the humans. Heh. But he got lost and I found him here. When I told Papyrus the way back to the others he just took off again, but I stayed. The sun had just set back then, and the stars... Papyrus had wanted to gaze at them with the others, but this hill is so perfect and..." he looked over at you with his permanent grin usually soft. "Some things that you experience for the first time are best seen alone, you know?" You chuckled and sat next to him, looking up at the stars with him.

"I do," you answered truthfully. "After my father was arrested, I went outside for the first time in years. The cops tried to coddle me while they were questioning my mother and threatening her with neglect charges, but I slipped away," you let out a content sigh. "That first breath of fresh air in years... hearing the wind rustle in the trees in person instead of from the wrong end of a nature documentary. Seeing the sunset without it being marred by dusty and spotted glass," you closed your eyes. "I had seen it, so many times. I had sat there in my room and watched nature, but until that moment I hadn't been allowed to hear it, to see it's light burn my eyes, to feel it, to breathe it. To smell the wood that I could see, to feel the grass," your fingers slid through it as you spoke, relishing the soft whisper of it against your palm. "People take things for granted until they suddenly don't have it, or aren't allowed it. I get mad all the time when people complain about the sun being too bright and getting in their eyes. Or when they say it's too cold or too hot," you laughed humorlessly. "But after being in a temperature controlled building for my childhood, I have extreme bias."

Sans was gazing at you, and as you looked at him you realized his eye lights were dim. Not as dim as they were right after your story, but still dim. Somehow they also seemed blurred, as if they were soft and looking through you instead of at you.

"You didn't deserve that," he said, his voice nothing but a breath on the breeze. You barely heard him. You smiled.

"You didn't deserve to be locked underground for so long, either," you retorted. "You should be glad you met a human who understands."

"That's just it," he sighed. "I would have been happier if I had never met a human who understood. Nobody deserves to understand what that is like," his bony phalanges brushed your fingers. You both stayed silent for another moment, gazing at the sky.

"Look," you said suddenly, raising your hand to point up there. "Do you know any of the constellations?" When you looked at him, you could have sworn his eyes would have been sparkling if they... wait, were they?

"No," he shook his head. "But I've wanted to learn. I've tried reading books about it, but they're all so new to me that I still can't tell one star from another." You smiled brightly, startling him.

"Here, look," you laid down and pointed straight up. He laid down beside you, following your hand to see where you were pointing. You began to point out the few constellations that you knew, things that you would trace over and over again during your own first few years of freedom. You two began to talk about anything star related that you could think of.

"Really?" He was propping his body up by his elbow, his brow bones raised at you. "There's a personality test based on how the stars are positioned during the month you're born?"

"Kinda," you chuckled. "It isn't always accurate, but it is a fun thing to look into. It can also get incredibly detailed. And there are things--they're called horoscopes. They are supposed to predict your luck for that day or week or whatever it is they decide to predict based on what sign you fall under. Those aren't ever true, at least not any that I've read. Those are definitely more just for fun than anything serious."

"Wow," Sans was genuinely amazed by everything you were telling him, and you found his curiosity adorable. "What sign are you, then?" You put your hands behind your head.

"Ah. See, I happen to be one of those that falls on a tricky day. Technically I am a Saggitarius, but I was born on the first day on Sagittarius, in the early morning too, so I'm what they call a Cusp. It means I have traits from two signs; the one I was born in, Saggitarius, and the one that came right before, which in my case is Scorpio. Then each sign has an element they are related to, which also goes and factors into the personality," you shook your head with a smile. "But it can get a bit boring to expl--"

"No," he interrupted you. "I want to know, it's interesting. What element is for your sign... err, signs?" You sat up, looking at him with a huge smile. Nobody had listened to you for this long before.

"That's the funny thing; Scorpio is a water sign, but Saggitarius is a fire sign. So, I'm made of conflicting personalities. Which actually explains a lot about me," you both chuckled. "Each Cusp has its own name, too."

"There's a name for each of the intersections between signs?" He was so genuinely surprised it almost made you want to pinch his cheekbones. You nodded happily.

"There is one called the Cusp of Beauty, and another called the Cusp of Power, and the Cusp of Energy. There's even one called the Cusp of Magic!" You were giddy, excited to have somebody genuinely interested in hearing what you had to say about the Zodiac signs and astronomy in general. "I mean, the Cusp of Magic! It was given that name before magic was realized to be real, can you believe it? I wonder what inspired that name. It's just so interesting!"

"Okay, stop teasing me," he chuckled. "What are you? The Cusp of Magic?" You shook your head.

"Oh no, nothing that mysterious. The name of my Cusp is much more dramatic."

"You're stalling," he accused you, his smile wider than usual. You chuckled, holding your hands up in your defense.

"For dramatic effect! Okay, okay. My Cusp is the Cusp of Revolution," you closed your eyes, a smirk pulling at your lips at the sheer dramatic irony of the name. Of course, it was dramatic irony because Sans was clueless to your persona as "La Venganza."

"Revolution," he repeated, mulling that over in his head. "That fits you. It is every bit as dramatic as your stalling."

"It was a dramatic pause, not stalling!" You argued with a laugh. You chanced a glance at your phone, only to see that you had been talking to him for over two hours. It was really late, and you had a performance the next day!

"Oh, shit, I gotta get home," you rubbed the back of your head. "I'm visiting my mother's in the morning. Well, not my biological mother's; she got sued for neglect a long time ago, so I haven't lived with her since the incident... despite her obsessive tracking of me. I'm visiting my adoptive mother, and if I'm late she isn't going to be very happy," you ran your hand through your hair. Sans looked worried.

"Is she mean, too? You know, you don't have to--"

"Oh, it's nothing like that!" You assure him hastily. "If I'm late, she might not give me her famous cookies! I can't live without those cookies! Their deliciousness is matched only by Toriel's butterscotch cinnamon pie."

"Wow. Those must be some serious cookies. Hurry up and get some sleep then. And save me a cookie!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that was short. Sorry! Hopefully you enjoyed it though, Marrionette1! I love you guys, and I hope all of you know I am here to talk to if you need help with anything or just a listening ear. Thanks!


	8. Live and Let Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Another performance chapter! Yaaaaaaaayyyyyy! <3 I love writing these. (Edit: heh I originally had a typo that was "performacne" oh my god. I need a meme for this type of acne, I'm "breaking out" in laughter here guys.)
> 
> Meant to post this yesterday but....
> 
> Heh. 
> 
> Oops. 
> 
> Anyway, here you go! My mom got an embarrassing video of me singing to the song in this chapter... I really hope she doesn't post it on Facebook. Ughhh. Its so catchy thooooooough. 
> 
> BTW; It isn't in the chapter, but for this performance you are wearing a brown-red wig twisted into a messy bun. 
> 
> More notes at the end~ tootles.

"What excuse did you make to get them to leave you alone today?" Synthia asked, all too perceptive of how much time you had spent with your new monster friends in the few days since you had met them. You smiled at her, an odd sight in her tuxedo morph suit with the face part down. She looked like some human who was halfway converted into a black and white cartoon character. Her full face black mask was held loosely in one hand, almost forgotten in her loose grip as she looked at you with a fond gaze. Nobody had wanted you to step out of your shell and make more friends in the past four years than Synthia. You could tell by the look in her eyes how proud and happy she was for you.

"Nothing bad," you assured her. "I actually told a half-truth. That I had to come visit my adoptive mother today," you told her as you stretched on the floor, your costume laid out to the side of you. You preferred to wait to get ready until the last moment, just in case somebody managed to see you before the performance. The less amount of time you were in full costume, the safer it was. The tuxedo morph suit was popular enough that it would be easy to explain, and Synthia's mask small enough to be easily hidden in half a second. You, though? Your costume was one of a kind every single time and could not be explained away.

"Ah. The old 'the best lie is the truth,' trick, huh?"

Man, your legs were tight. Your fault for not stretching before you went to bed or doing a mini stretch when you woke up. Now the muscles behind your knees were giving the slightest painful twinge that warned you that you needed to stick to your stretching schedule more religiously.

"Yeah," you answered Synthia absently, mainly focused on your stretches. "And Sans texted me this morning that the others were disappointed, but supportive. Apparently they had Undyne's girlfriend Alphys come to the studio to meet me. Sans said that Toriel was the first one to snap them out of their whining and told him to tell me that she and Frisk understand completely and hope that I can meet them for another practice soon," Ah, there was that pleasant give in your muscles as they finally relaxed and let you bend the distance that you demanded. Once those muscles gave in, your stretches were over and you lurched to your feet. You grabbed a cookie hot off of the counter, looking at your adoptive mother who was surprisingly dressed the complete opposite of her usual style.

"Are you... wearing jeans and a hoodie?" you asked her, perplexed. When she was around the house she was always dressed comfortably in a long night shirt or sweatpants and a cozy turtleneck sweater. But she hardly ever wore jeans, and you had never seen her in a hoodie that wasn't crocheted and slightly formal. In fact, you couldn't remember ever seeing her wear anything in the standard hoodie material besides her stay-at-home sweatpants. If those even counted.

"Max said that he couldn't drive you today because he'd be too giddy about the dance and stand out as, and I quote, 'a breakdancer at a tango competition,' so he asked me to drive you this time and advised me to dress as nondescript as possible," your only true motherly figure looked down at herself, then back at your worriedly. "Is this okay? I figured jeans and the teenager's boring hoodie would be as nondescript as it gets."

"First off; its fine, I was just shocked. Secondly; they are not boring, they are comfy and singular colors mean that they match almost everything in your closet so you can wear them as often as you want. Lastly; What in the world makes Max think you won't be every bit as giddy as he is? You're my mother for Star's sake! That entitles you to at least a bit more emotion than a dance instructor!" you threw your hands up, not really angry as much as you were slightly annoyed that he hadn't brought it up to you first. He was making you dance one of your protest performances wearing slabs of gold painted concrete balanced on crayons, the least he could do was watch the damn thing! Okay, so the heels weren't as heavy as concrete, but they were certainly as stiff and hard on your feet as it. Your adoptive mother just laughed, a pretty sound that instantly eased your anxiety and made you smile softly at her.

"He also said that he wouldn't be able to keep from bragging about the dance, so he's going to pretend to be a spectator so that he has a reason to know all of the steps you do in the performance."

"Okay," you sighed, relieved that he actually was going to watch. "That makes me feel better. I should have known he wouldn't have skipped out on being our driver for no reason. But..." you gave your mother a skeptical look. "Can you dodge the reporters, bloggers, and obsessive haters and fans after the show?"

"Please," she gave you a pitying look. "I can drive just as well as I can bake those cookies," she pointed to the last speck of deliciousness you held in your fingers. The same speck that vanished into your mouth not a second after she stopped talking.

"Then we have no worries. Let's go! I'm changing in the car," you grabbed your black, grey, and purple face paint and headed off towards the bathroom. "Seven minutes exactly for me to do the makeup to disguise my face! Synthia, make sure the decals are completely removed along with the makeup work done on the van's sides, load up the floor, and make sure all the signs are accounted for. Mom, double check the gas tanks and the tires and practice your stoic face. I need both of you in the car before the seven minutes is up," you tossed your costume, tied neatly in a plastic bag, to your mom. "Please have that on the back seat. First thing you do, okay? Thanks!" you hated telling them what to do, but you all knew that these protests were no game. Somebody needed to bark the orders now and then, and since you were the one who started this, the one who occasionally wrote the songs and took care of almost everything aside from singing and sometimes choreographing, everyone involved agreed that you would be the designated order-barker. This was your baby. You'd make sure every single performance went perfectly.

The location this time was outdoors, with a backup location ready in case the weather didn't permit. It did. The sun was shining, the wind was pleasant, the crowds were thick. It was perfect.

It was right at the entrance to one of the many "Human Only" parks in the state. Right across the street, in pure rebellion and Monster pride, was Muffet's Bakery. It was constantly egged and harassed because of its location, but this intersection provided you with the perfect meld of Monsters, Monster sympathizers, and hardcore Monster haters for your show along with those humans who were either undecided, oblivious, or just didn't care. You had been saving this spot for a special occasion, and since Christmas was exactly seven days away, this was the perfect time to remind everybody that holidays were for love. Hate and violence had no place during them.

Synthia-- now completely in her Anonymous persona and garb-- had just finished rolling out the floor and putting up the signs. It was your turn to make your appearance.

So you whipped off the trench coat that had been covering you from the winter wind (it was a warm winter day, no snow, but the chill still hung heavy in the air) and walked out in your gold heels to stand in the middle of this floor. It was smaller, the same material but not nearly as big as your Colorguard floor since you wouldn't move very much when it came to distance during your Salsa. Plus, this area was high-risk, high-reward. The faster you could pack up and leave, the safer you would be.

Anonymous started the speaker. Before the song was a message from you, in an automated computer voice to protect your identity.

 **"Here is a crossroads. An intersection. We stand on the border between Segregation; between hatred, harm, and death, and the land of love, peace, acceptance, and integration. The world that you choose to live in is up to you; but let me show you what the brighter side has to offer. I represent the side of Integration. I represent the Monsters who have died from hate and discrimination. I am their revenge, their voice. I am La Venganza; so listen to my dance."**  

The two signs that were different read:

 _The song is: Vivir Mi Vida by Marc Anthony._  
The title sign read: _Live and Let Live. ~ **Let's all just live, and dance.** ~_

Your costume was primarily purple and gold, since it had to match your face paint and mask somehow while also matching the heels, but it also had silver and black accents. A traditional salsa outfit would be showing a lot of skin, but everywhere it would be normally showing skin on you there was skin-colored fabric in your skin tone to create the illusion of the traditional costume without giving away any possible identifying features on your skin. All of your skin that wasn't painted on or below your wrists on your arms was covered.

_Step. Step. Walk towards them provocatively for a few steps. Kick, shoulders back, back arched slightly. Show off your curves. Show off your passion in your dance_

 

> (Chorus)
> 
> Voy a reír, voy a bailar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la  
>  voy a reír, voy a gozar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la [x2]  
> 
> 
> *Translation:
> 
> (Chorus)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna dance
> 
> [I'm gonna] live my life, la, la, la, la
> 
> I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna enjoy
> 
> live my life, la, la, la, la (x2)

You executed your turns exactly as Max had shown you how to on that first day you had met Sans. Once that thought crossed your mind, all your monster friends entered your thoughts as you danced. They weren't in the center of your thoughts as you still focused primarily on your moves, but you saw all their faces in your mind's eye. All of them had a target on them simply for being born a Monster. Any of them could be lost to you because of this senseless hate. Papyrus was almost lost just the other night. If you and Sans hadn't had been there...

Your moves grew a sharper edge to them, but also a smoother flow. Your hips swayed rounder and more entrancingly than you had been able to do for years. Your kicks were filled with an intensity behind them that you hadn't felt since you were much younger. Your friends were all so special, so wonderful, so pure. And any one of them, or all of them could be taken from you because of idiots and bigots.

It gave you a fiercer reason to dance this protest Salsa. As you spun and dipped and did your roll on the floor, you pictured the worst happening. You pictured all of them dying in front of you, you pictured your Dad coming back and ruining everything, you pictured death all around you. Then you pictured the best possible outcome. Everybody happy, discrimination a dull hum in the background of life, your Dad nearly forgotten and left to memory, you pictured... Her.

 

>  
> 
> A veces llega la lluvia  
>  para limpiar las heridas  
>  a veces sólo una gota  
>  puede vencer la sequía
> 
>  
> 
> Y para que llorar, pa’ qué  
>  si duele una pena, se olvida  
>  y para qué sufrir, pa’ qué  
>  si así es la vida, hay que vivirla la la le
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *Translation:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Sometimes rain comes
> 
> to clean wounds
> 
> Sometimes just a drop
> 
> can overcome the drought
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And why cry, for what?
> 
> If it hurts bad, forget it
> 
> And why suffer, for what?
> 
> If life is like this, you must live it

_Arms drag behind your head and down the back of your neck. Back straight; wiggle to the floor slowly. Slowly. Sway but do not bend. Do not compromise your posture at all. Straight down._  

You sprang back up in a bounce reminiscent of hip hop, right as your butt had almost touched your performance floor. Your hips swayed, your emotion was clear. A few of the passion and perseverance shards in your soul inched closer to each other. It was just a shiver, you didn't feel it, but the change was there.

 

> (Chorus. no translation here b/c it is above)
> 
> Voy a reír, voy a bailar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la  
>  voy a reír, voy a gozar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la 

  
You reached to the audience, teasing them flirtatiously. Your eyes saw a swatch of blue. Blue? Why did that matter? Why did that stick out to you? You pushed the thought away and continued dancing.

 

>  
> 
> Voy a vivir el momento  
>  para entender el destino  
>  voy a escuchar el silencio  
>  para encontrar el camino
> 
>  
> 
> Y para que llorar, pa’ qué  
>  si duele una pena, se olvida  
>  y para qué sufrir, pa’ qué  
>  si duele una pena, se olvida la la le
> 
>  
> 
> *Translation:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I'm gonna live in the moment
> 
> to understand the fate
> 
> I'm gonna listen in silence
> 
> to find the way
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And why cry, for what?
> 
> If it hurts bad, forget it
> 
> And why suffer, for what?
> 
> If it hurts bad, forget it
> 
>   
>  (Chorus)
> 
> Voy a reír, voy a bailar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la  
>  voy a reír, voy a gozar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la 
> 
>   
>  Mi gente! (T: My people)
> 
>   
>  Toma. (T: just a yell. It really sounds more like "Whooopa")

The next lines were where your dancing got even faster and more expressive. It mixed one line of the chorus with the next line or lines being completely new.

 

> Voy a reír, voy a bailar  
>  pa´qué llorar, pa’ que sufrir  
>  empieza a soñar, a reír
> 
>  
> 
> *Translation:
> 
>  
> 
> I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna dance
> 
> Why mourn? Why suffer?
> 
> Start dreaming, laughing
> 
>  

At "sufrir," you drew your hands to your temples and crumpled in on yourself slightly, but bounced back into a kick and had a lazy and dreamlike float in your arms as you slowly spun away from the audience.

 

> voy a reír, voy a bailar  
>  siente y baila y goza  
>  que la vida es una sola
> 
>  
> 
> *Translation:
> 
>  
> 
> I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna dance
> 
> Feel and dance and enjoy,
> 
> you only live once

At "Sola," you gave the audience a bold pose that just screamed agreement with the lyrics.

 

> voy a reír, voy a bailar  
>  vive, sigue  
>  siempre pa’lante  
>  no mires pa’ tras
> 
>   
>  Mi gente! La vida es una! (in background)
> 
>  
> 
> *Translation:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna dance
> 
> Live, always keep moving forward
> 
> Don't look back
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> My people, you only live once (in background)

  
The song was nearing its close. Your movements slowed slightly and became more sharp and triumphant and celebratory. It was rare when one of your dances not only contained energy and hope, but also happiness and pride as much as this single Salsa did. You twisted your hips and moved your heel-clad feet cheerily to the end of the song, executing the last four turns with the perfect sharpness Max had coached you in.

 

 

> (Final chorus)
> 
> Voy a reír, voy a bailar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la  
>  voy a reír, voy a gozar  
>  vivir mi vida la la la la

  
You posed, taking a mere few seconds to scan your eyes and only your eyes for Max.

You didn't see Max, because your eyes were drawn to the speck of blue that had nearly distracted you earlier.

It was Sans. Why was it Sans? He was supposed to be at the Studio more than ten miles away! He wasn't supposed to be here, staring at you, your gazes locked. He wasn't supposed to see this performance, too. The timing between the end of this performance and when you met up with them-- he would have such a firmer grip on it than he would have if he had been absent from all the first hand details. He was far from being an idiot-- far as in the distance from the Moon to Earth and back far. If you weren't careful, he'd find you out in no time.

You turned and ran off of you floor, picking up one end as Anonymous one-handedly grabbed the opposite end. Folding the small floor in half in five short seconds, the both of you held it over your shoulders and ran through your practiced escape route and to the van. Your adoptive mother was waiting with the car ready exactly as rehearsed, you and Anonymous carried everthing into the back seat with you, slammed the door, and your mom took off. Hastily you both shoved the signs and the floor over the backs of the seats and into the floor behind you, you asked your mom with paranoia if the plates were fake when you remembered you had forgotten to remind them about that, and you recieved a demand to calm own paired with reassurance that they remembered to do that on their own.

Without any other worries plaguing you, you and Synthia changed back into your normal clothes and relaxed for the twisting drive home. Huh. You definitely liked your mom's cookies better than her driving, but only due to tastebud bias because they were both equally skillfully executed. Your mom lost everybody tailing you faster than even Max had. When you all arrived at her house fourty minutes later, you three silently took care of the entire routine that was necessary and then went to relax in the living room like you had after the last performance.

But when you got to the living room, you noticed your phone was ringing. Having a sneaking suspicion on who it was and why they were calling, you lunged in and picked it up off the coffee table before answering it as quickly as possible.

"Hey. Sorry, I was in the shower and my mom doesn't answer my phone for me. What's up?" Sans' familiar voice came from the other end shortly after a relieved sigh.

"Don't worry me like that, bud," he sounded like he had been calling for a while. "Anyway, what are you doing showering for almost an hour and doing it at your mom's place?" you almost gulped, but caught yourself in time since he would have definitely heard that. Thankfully, you were no slouch in the intelligence department yourself, and easily came up with an excuse.

"I've actually only been in the shower for about half an hour. Before that my mom and I were baking-- we had the music blasted and we were being pretty rowdy so I musn't have heard you. Then she just had to get flour and milk all over me--" your clever mom heard your conversation and decided to help you out with forming your fake alibi.

"You started the food fight!" she yelled from the kitchen, sounding surprisingly convincing.

"Whatever!" you shouted back at her, shooting her a very thankful smile. "Anyway, she got me completely covered in cookie ingredients. I had no choice but to take a shower while she washed my clothes for me," you fist pumped the air and gave Synthia a silent high-five. And the prize for best lier of the year goes to...

Sans clearly bought it, though if he had been in the same room with you you doubted you would have been half as successful. Nothing slipped past his gaze. Or, well, not much.

"Anyway, bud. I just saw 'La Venganza' dance outside Muffets near the Stupid People Park--"

"Wait," you interrupted him, not bothering to hide your laughter. "First, is that actually what you guys call it? Because if it is, we need to get that shit copyrighted. Second, weren't you supposed to be at the studio?" your genuine curiosity seeped into your voice now. You could finally recieve an answer! Sure, you only waited a little less than an hour for it, but still. It was nagging you how he could have possibly been there when he was scheduled to be with the others practicing.

"Well, Muffet is a friend of mine. As soon as she saw them setting up she called me and told me what ws going on, so I took a shortcut to get there."

"How can a shortcut take you roughly ten miles in, what, the three or four minutes you had to get there in time to see even most of the dance?"

"I didn't see most of the dance," you rolled your eyes. Sure. Sure he hadn't, he also hadn't been looking nice and cozy in the second-to-front row as you finished performing. "I saw all of it."

What. The. Shit?

"Okay, then how much time does that leave you to travel that distance, huh? A minute and a half?" you were being purposely generous.

"About thirty-two seconds, actually."

Smart ass. Did he steal your mental performance clock?

"My question remains. What kind of shortcut can do that?"

"A magical one."

A silent moment passed over the phone.

Two silent moments.

Three...

"Hey, bud, are yo--"

"Are you saying you can fucking teleport, Sans the Skeleton?" you said in your best scolding-parent voice.

"Well, uh, yeah."

"I might not be an expert on magic, but I know that no human-- except maybe Frisk, but they haven't had the chance to tell me much about you-- has heard about any monster being able to teleport," because, yeah, Sans being able to teleport was a big deal. It was like somebody walked over to all of your plans and decided, 'hey, I think this giant ass wrench belongs right here, where it interrupts everything you want to do!' If he could teleport, the amount of time it would take him to figure out who you were was rapidly going extinct.

You could practically hear the shrug in Sans' voice.

"I'm not most monsters. I thought you knew that."

The last thing he heard before you hung up on him was your very, very frustrated growl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh Sansy can teleport~~ oh wait, we all knew that already. Heh. Looks like the whole "Cusp of Revolution" thing wasn't the only dramatic irony going on. Muahahaha. Karma, people. I'm warning you, one chapter you're snickering about someone else being on the wrong end of dramatic irony and the next you get hit in the face with it. *not foreshadowing. Seriously. Don't get too excited.*


	9. Opaque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month after your "Live and Let Live" performance. Stuff is starting to get done for a change, and Sans accidentally stumbles upon the fact that he hasn't even begun unraveling your secrets yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! I'm sorry guys, I started college in January, and that coupled with family stuff (and slight writer's block) made me take a couple weeks off to adjust and get back into the writing spirit. Plus, it was really damn hard deciding how to move this along in the best way to accomplish my goal for this story. I decided a tiny time skip was in order.

Your salsa performance had been a hit. Hit as in it  _hit_ some nerves,  _hit_ some sense into a startling number of politicians, and just generally  _kicked_ the country into action. Many people in government and media actually understood your intent with timing the performance right before Christmas, and they additionally commended you on making the performance happier and more full of pride than most of your dances ended up. Paired it with your equally influential _Trail of Dust_ performance before that, and gears started to shift in the nation. Things in government took time, though. Especially with an issue that was still so controversial. But they had gotten a lot of work done for only a month having passed, and you could just _feel_ change coming as if it were being carried on the wind.

Of course, whether or not you sensed change was irrelevant. As long as it still had yet to occur, you still had protesting to do. Which was why you had done another performance in the past month, and were currently taking a bit longer than usual to plan your next one. With change just balancing on the edge of a razor, just begging to finally happen, you had to make this next performance the one that finally made things start to get better for monster kind. 

But, it helped that you were hanging out with your new monster friends pretty frequently now. Sans still refused to dance. He was quite adamant about being too lazy for it, and even though you knew that it was a lie you let it be. After all, you would refuse them flat out if they ever asked you to dance solo, especially to your own choreography. No. You would only dance duets or group dances with them. Nothing else. 

You smiled as you watched Undyne and Alphys flirt for the umpteenth time, pulling you out of your thoughts. The entire group was at the park, enjoying the weather. It was still winter, but the snow was light and the air warm enough for all of you (minus the poor freezing yellow lizard) to comfortably sit on a bench (provided it was first brushed off and covered by a blanket) and let the energetic ones play around. You were snuggling into your cozy jacket, Sans nodding in and out of sleep beside you. He was still wearing his shorts. You sighed, and finally gave in to your curiosity. You had spent weeks seeing him fall asleep in snow, get thrown into snow piles by Papyrus when he cracked too many puns, and walk around in negative degree weather as if it was Spring. You needed answers, and by now you two were good enough friends that you didn't worry about him thinking your question was racist.

"Sans."

"Mmhmm?" he hummed without opening his eye sockets. He was still half asleep.

"You know it's winter, right?"

"Mmhmm."

"You know there is snow literally covering your shoes and feet, right?"

"Mmhmm."

"If I threw you in the half frozen pond, would you sink, turn into an ice cube, both, or just walk out as if nothing happened?"

"Mmhmm."

You waited. His eye sockets opened slowly, and he looked at you curiously. 

"Wait, what?" 

"I was just wondering. I mean, you seem completely oblivious to the cold. So would you turn into an ice cube anyway, or would you just walk out and fall asleep in a random pile of snow?" 

"... You never plan on letting me live that one down, do you?" 

"No. You slept in a pile of snow, then it snowed and we couldn't tell what was your body and what was the fluffy stuff that I needed to shovel out of the sidewalk." 

"I do seem to remember being poked by a shovel," he mused, as if it was just a normal occurrence for him to be confused with a type of precipitation.  

"Don't change the topic!" you scolded him jokingly. "Are skeletons affected by the temperature at all?" Sans seemed to think about this for a moment, then shrugged. 

"I mean, we feel it. We can tell when it is really cold or really hot, it just doesn't bother us," you leaned back, gazing up at the snow blanketed sky. 

"That makes sense..." you said softly, closing your eyes. Even if it was cold, you were still bundled up in your warm clothes. Plus just being around Sans was relaxing. It was as if his very aura just infected you with grogginess. Not because he was boring, but rather just because you felt safe around him. That thought should have alarmed you, but you were too close to sleep for it to register in your head properly. 

~

Sans woke up from yet another micro nap, and turned his head to start up a conversation with you. Only, you were asleep now. His smile widened a bit, you just looked so much... softer when you were asleep. When you were awake it was easy for him to tell that you were always on guard, always cautious. For some reason he figured that the shit with your dad wasn't the only thing contributing to the trauma that made you so careful all the time. 

That was when he heard the soft crunch of footsteps walking through the snow, and did a head count. Alphys, Undyne, Paps, Frisk, Toriel...with you and him, that made everybody accounted for. He turned to see who was walking up then, and saw an unfamiliar human. They seemed both apprehensive yet excited at the same time. As they got closer he could see that it was a guy, whose gaze kept flickering over to your sleeping form. Was he a bad ex boyfriend or something?Just the thought made Sans prickle and sit up, watching the newcomer closely. The guy seemed to notice he was being weird by just staring at you and ignoring the protective skeleton, so he turned to Sans and gave an apologetic smile. 

"I'm sorry! It's just been a long time since I've seen her," he nodded to your sleeping form.

"Ya know my bud?" Sans asked, appearing relaxed even though he was far from it. The guy sighed.

"Yes. I'm one of the administration at the University," right as he said that, Alphys came over and her eyes widened slightly.

"Is he tellin' the truth, Alph?" Sans asked his lizard friend, who nodded. Alphys was a professor at the University after all, so she would probably know best.

"Y-yes. I know him. W-we don't talk often, but h-he is telling the truth," Sans slumped into the bench slightly as if he was still sleepy, but didn't let his guard down. "W-why are you here th-though?" Alphys asked the man. He rubbed the back of his head.

"I was just taking a walk, but then I saw her," he shook his head, then after a brief pause he said your name. "She... She keeps avoiding me. I know why, of course, but I have no idea why she's so adamant on not applying for a job at the University."

"A job at the University?" Sans asked, confused. It was like situational whiplash. One second he thought this guy was an ex of yours, and the next he is utterly confused as to just who he was to you. "What job would you want her to have?"

"Ah. Figures she didn't tell you," he said with a grimace. "She doesn't like bragging about herself. Truth is, I've asked her several times to come be a professor," Sans looked between you and him a few times, then pointed to you for emphasis.

"This girl?"

"Yes."

"This girl named (Y/N), who works a shitty job doing paperwork for a dance studio?"

"Yes."

"This _specific woman_ who spends all day thinking up new puns so she can have a pun war with me, comes up with the most random shit to say, and who is probably only old enough to have graduated from high school a few years ago?" 

"She graduated high school two years early, when she was almost seventeen. She got a full ride to college, double majored in English and Dance. Got an MFA both in Dance and Creative Writing, then disappeared off the map almost immediately after. She finished school in two and a half years since she got credits in high school," he rattled off as if he had spent an obscene amount of time reading your resume. "So, yes, her."

Sans stared at him for a while, as did Alphys, and the man chuckled.

"She also wrote the storylines for two different manga and anime series, but under a pseudonym so that everybody would think she was japanese. Similarly, she published a young adult novel also with a pseudonym."

"And you know this because..?" Sans asked, suspicious of this man's knowledge about you. In one month of being your friend, Sans still was at almost the same point he was during that first week that he knew you. The only new things he had learned about you were trivial ones, like your favorite color and food. And being as he had plenty of ways to learn things about you, this said a LOT. 

"Because he's Synthia's cousin and Synthia's mom is a blabbermouth to her family," you responded easily, making the three people who were just casually talking about you jump. Well, Alphys and Synthia's cousin jumped. Sans just sat there, all of his surprise perfectly internalized.

"S-s-so its true?" Alphys asked, her eyes wide. "Y-y-you wrote the s-stories for two animes?!" you chuckled at her, smiling kindly at the sweet lizard.

"That's the part you're surprised about? Not the graduating-college-with-two-MFAs-at-age-nineteen or the novel or the being asked to be a professor at Uni?"

Alphys was too far gone it seemed. She didn't even spare your words a thought, and instead ran over to Undyne with the most enthusiastic face you had ever seen on the precious reptilian monster. At the same time Alphys squealed something along the lines of:

"UNDYNE, SHE'S A MANGAKA! WE'RE FRIENDS WITH A MANGAKA! SHE COULD HELP US PUBLISH OUR LIFE-INSPIRED FANFICTION!"

"..." You looked over at the two men. Synthia's cousin opened his mouth, but you shook your head. "Nope. Not teaching."

"Not even a dance class?"

"Especially not a dance class," there was something dark and hurt in your voice, but Sans couldn't figure out what it was exactly or why it was there.

 

It took another half hour before the guy left, giving in on his attempt to persuade you into teaching. Sans looked so amused it annoyed you for some reason.

"What?"

"You are so much like Sans," that was Undyne, who wasn't as loud as usual because the poor fish was freezing her gills off after so long in the cold. She still managed to be super enthusiastic though. You tilted your head at her.

"Huh?"

"Sans has also had to decline many offers for teaching jobs," Toriel mused. She had been standing a distance away to watch frisk, but had come closer after Synthia's cousin had left. You looked over at your bony friend, who was trying to feign sleep. You flicked the side of his skull in good humor.

"You never sleep that peacefully, dork," you said with a small smirk. "You're always either lightly snoring or mumbling incoherently, so you can't fool me," Sans grumbled, but opened an eye socket for you to show he was listening. "They're trying to convince you to be a professor too?" he nodded reluctantly.

"Not the same guy, but other people from the Uni. They want me to teach their upper level physics classes... as if Alphys isn't more than qualified to do it herself."

"S-s-Sans!" Alphys stuttered with a frown. "Th-there are too many c-classes for me to t-teach by myself! A-and I'm mostly teaching upper level ch-chemistry. Th-that's what I'm b-b-best at." Sans waved her off lazily.

"Physics?" the look you were giving him could only be described as absolute horror. He chuckled, then sat up to look at you properly.

"What, you don't like physics?"

"I don't like any science that requires me to use obscene amounts of advanced math," you said with a grimace. "Which rules out just about _every_ science. Don't get me wrong, I'd probably be able to do it. I'm not bad at math or anything, I just hate it," Sans chuckled. 

"Whatever you say, bud," he drawled lazily. You smiled and pushed him playfully. Then a puff of snow exploded on your cheek, making your head swing around to see where the projectile came from. Frisk was giggling and pointing to Papyrus, who was looking the other way and completely oblivious to Frisk trying to frame him for the snowball. You grinned and ran out to initiate a snowball fight with them, your face overtaken with glee. 

Sans sat and watched you, his permanent grin on his face as he looked on. He was worried, however, when he realized that you hardly ever had such honest joy on your face like you did just then. He knew from your story that you had every reason to not be the happiest person on earth, but for some reason he couldn't help but wonder why you seemed to be so... 

Similar to him. 

He noticed it. Of course he did, out of everybody in the world he had the most reason to notice. Your smiles were usually fake unless a real one was startled out of you. You didn't talk about yourself much, you tried almost obsessively to make sure everyone else was happy before you worried about yourself. Of course you did it subtly, but that didn't do much to hide it from his sight. And then there was the fact that he just learned more about you in five minutes, from a complete stranger to him, than he had learned from being your friend for almost a month. It worried him. Why would you disappear after college? What were you trying to hide from him? 

Why did he feel like your story about your father wasn't everything that happened? 

Sans stared at you for a while before he dropped his gaze to your chest. He focused, flipping the mental switch that allowed him to see your SOUL and your STATS. Your Lv and EXP hadn't changed. He hadn't expected them to, yet... 

Yes. How could he miss it? Your EXP and LV weren't high, but those numbers couldn't come from just one accidental murder. If you had truly not meant to kill that girl then you should have had a lower EXP and stayed at LV 1. So, why..? 

Sans knew he had to figure it out. He had let his guard down to much. You were so kind, and the lack of resets lately had made him lazier than he usually was. He had to know... 

What actually happened to you? 

 

* * *

 

The next day, Sans left with Papyrus and met the others at the studio like usual. This time Max was at the counter instead of the usual receptionist. Sans raised his brow bone, approaching the man. 

"Hey," he said to Max, "no practice with (y/n) today?" Max looked over at him, and smiled with a shake of is head. 

"Nah. This time she didn't want me watching, she decided she's going to choreograph this dance herself," Sans was surprised by this. He had noticed how you always followed other people's dances, never doing your own. Max saw his surprise and chuckled. "She said Salsa was getting boring. So a couple weeks ago she had me helping her with a different style. Now, though," Max's gaze wandered away from the stout skeleton. "She doesn't like people watching her dance to her own material, but she decided she wanted to go back down memory lane for a while..." 

"Ballet?" Sans asked without thinking, watching as his friends headed up to their usual practice room without him. It was Max's turn to look surprised, looking at Sans with wide eyes. 

"She told you about that incident from when she was a kid?" he asked, sounding as if he couldn't believe it. Sans shrugged, nodding. 

"Yeah. Told me about that poor little girl she tried to save. It had to have been tough for her, not having anybody to help her through that." 

The look Max gave him gave Sans a bad feeling. You had told him the truth, hadn't you? Max's face argued with that stance. 

"... What did she tell you?" Max asked softly. So Sans told him, he summarized exactly what you told him. Max was silent for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. Sans had to speak up again. "Bud, you okay there?"

Max sighed, leaning over the counter and keeping his voice down. "Look. That isn't exactly what happened. Don't look so hurt, please, she didn't exactly lie. Or, not on purpose," Max bit the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to find the right words. "... Here's what really happened. 

"Most of her story is true. But her memory messes with her, she remembers things that never happened and forgets things that did. Her psychiatrists say its a defense mechanism for her, similar to how some people lose their memories after traumatic events. And, she left a small part out," Max took a deep breath. "First off, the little girl her father tried to kill is fine. (Y/N) saved her. The one she killed was her father, but it wasn't an accident. It was self defense. Her father had beat her and the other girl up pretty badly, and (Y/N) had no choice but to steal his knife and kill him in order to save all of them. Secondly, she left out that she wasn't alone. Back then, (Y/N) had a sister. Her sister shared her room, and they were both coaxed by their father in his attempt to get them to murder. Her sister had been hurt so badly in the fight that she had passed out, and that was the last straw that pushed (Y/N) to defend all of them and kill her father."

Sans couldn't breathe for a moment. At first it would seem like those two details weren't big, but he knew they were. They explained her EXP and LV, and they raised another few questions. 

"Max," Sans breathed softly. "Is (Y/N) the older or the younger sister?" 

"Older," Max answered, confused. Sans ignored his confusion, feeling as if it was just getting harder to breathe. 

"Where is her sister now?" 

Max stayed silent. The look on his face was all Sans needed. Something happened to her. That was most likely the reason you were so much like him. Sans knew he was still missing pieces to your story... so many pieces. But this was a start. He felt like he was finally able to see under your many masks just a bit. And what he saw was starting to look startlingly like himself. 

He asked Max what room you were practicing in before teleporting up there and ripping the door open. He needed to talk to you. 

Music hit his ears at the same time that he saw you moving to the beat. 

And if he had a heart it would have stopped. 


	10. Weeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in ABSOLUTE SANS meaning that it is completely from San's POV. There won't be many chapters like this, so I hope you enjoy it :3

*As noted above, this is all in San's complete Point of View.* 

I had caught her at the beginning of the routine. She must have just restarted from a mess up. Somewhere behind me I could hear an excited squeal; I suppose Frisk saw me and was headed over... but my eyes were on you. The music was fast paced, and rock themed. The moment the lyrics began, you danced...

And it wasn't ballet by a long shot. 

 

> Feel it cutting into me, the doubting painful knife
> 
> Feel it deepening the rift, finally hit just right
> 
> Couldn’t take the love I had, so weak and burning low
> 
> But it grew into a weapon only hurting me, this I know

The way the lyrics were sung and the way you danced... they both resonated with me. They... hit a deep wound I hoped would never be prodded again. But hell... I never thought I would see you move like that. There was no mistaking it; that was hip hop. 

Damn you could move. 

The lyrics were clearly meant in a way that neither you nor I were interpreting them. For some reason I felt like the both of us were on the same page as to what they should really mean. 

 

> Is nonfiction 

How could you translate pain so well into your dance?  Your moves were sharp, thought through. Stars, I don't think I could have come up with better moves to that song myself. Your movements were quick, easily keeping pace with the fast tempo in the music and they each had a force behind them that I could only assume was your own, very real pain at how you interpreted the very lyrics you were dancing to. 

> So good with numbers, science, math I like
> 
> But I'm terrible at English so I despise
> 
> This part of me that wants a simple "Right or Wrong,"
> 
> And I feel that everything I choose will always be false

Your hands that went to clutch your hair, soon brought out to the side of you-- right arm, sharply, was flung away first and your head followed it. Not a beat later, your left hand sprung away from where it had clutched your hair, and again your head followed it as if you had to choose between two things and the impending decision was threatening to destroy you. The moment the lyrics of the next line came, you bent your knees inward sharply. Left knee, bent inwards and to the ground. Then the right knee, not a single beat missed. Your arms flew, right after left again, behind and over your head to clutch at your heart, as your upper body dragged itself side to side in violent pain. Then, as if you weren't just kneeling on the ground with your knees bent in an awkward position, you were up and moving in sharp, segmented moves to the new lyrics. 

> And today
> 
> This homework
> 
> About me
> 
> A blank sheet

Arms spun at the elbow to rest sharply, bent, right above your hips. 

Abrupt pivot to the left, your body bent forward with your hands in a single fist at your forehead, covering your face which was aimed at the ground. 

A step back out, hands on opposite shoulders.

Your hands snap to cover your face, your body lifted as you went to full releve, your body slightly curved backwards before you snapped out of the releve at the next few words.

> Accomplished
> 
> Content with
> 
> This life I will now live
> 
> 'Til I think why are we
> 
> Just sometimes- no always

Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Every line, every beat, your moves hit with an accuracy and precision that could only be called natural. It was as if you lived in the song. I gazed into your soul for a brief moment between lyrics-- I was very reluctant to miss a single move in your dance-- but your soul was not resonating. Hip Hop was not your special style of dance. 

But holy Stars, could you have fooled anyone that couldn't see your soul. 

> Saying how we're sad and
> 
> Saying how we're lonely? 

Were... You crying? 

> Can you even read the blackboard written clear as can be?
> 
> Can you even read his mind? See that kid's lost fantasy?

Your moves picked up, each one with slightly more force in it. More effort. Each move was slightly harder as the song took a more pleading tone. During one move, your face turned towards me just enough-- yes, you were crying. Your eyes were red, angry and sad all at once. Your tears slid down the already-paved paths on your cheeks. You must have been crying the entire time, how had I not noticed right away?

> Can you even find the one who dyed his red heart to black?

I heard a gasp, the same one that I had held back. My gaze darted down to my left; Frisk. Had they been there the whole time? I hadn't noticed. But that single line-- punctuated by your perfectly violent steps-- hit the both of us hard. Frisk was tearing up, their small hands covering their mouth in shock and pain. 

> Hey, who could it be? 
> 
> Hey, someone tell me!

You whipped your head from one side to the other as if you were searching for some unseen answer to an unknown question, and went straight into an attitude leap, and the second you landed you swept into a ground roll to accommodate the next lyrics. You rocked back and forth once from your spot on the floor, fell backwards, and swung your hands up as if begging for someone to just give you the answer.  The next words came, unrelenting, and you flipped over onto your side, propping your body up with one hand. Swinging your back leg over, you let it spring your body back up. 

> Can you even solve the question with your abacus yet? 
> 
> Can you even stop the rope from hanging him by his neck? 
> 
> Did we really choose it right saying we're okay this way?

Frisk was trembling next to me, the weight of your emotions and how all three of us heard the lyrics... It rocked us, but no matter how much Frisk and I wanted to leave and shut away the bad memories your dance was bringing back...

We just couldn't look away. 

> Hey just tell me how
> 
> It's not like I care now!

But, oh, if I thought Frisk's story was the one that was being heard in those words the most, I was soon shocked again. 

> Counting days like numbers, they all pass their prime
> 
> And again hypnotically swimming through time

I felt when the lights in my eyes went out. How could you look so damn convincing? I could see your face. It was as if you knew what it felt like, to count repeating days. To go through them like a mindless clockwork doll. As if to prove my hidden thoughts right, your moves grew decidedly more... plastic. Robotic. Automatic. 

> Behind the power and guards I put up
> 
> I hide....
> 
> Knowing they had long died.

Stars. Fuck it all. 

> From problems
> 
> My resolve
> 
> Just can't solve
> 
> That homework
> 
> Accomplished
> 
> Content with 
> 
> This life I will now live

How could your moves capture just decaying resolve? When I watched you, I felt as if you knew what it felt like to give up and accept the pain of RESETS. To stop trying. 

Somehow that hurt me more than the reminder itself. 

> 'Til I think and he speaks
> 
> That demon inside us

Cue the kid's jump of surprise. That one hit yet another nerve. Who the hell wrote that song?

> Saying "let me just leave,"
> 
> Saying "someone kill me!"

Guilt. Holy hell, your movements suddenly gained guilt. Each movement was heavier, deliberately a beat slower than before. Once again, I felt the honesty in your dance. You were mind numbingly guilty about something-- but what? Would a self defense kill really create that kind of pain? Why couldn't you forgive yourself for whatever you felt guilty of? 

I had to lay a hand on Frisk's shoulder. They were shaking worse than a chihuahua in Snowdin. The song continued, lines repeated. Wounds reopened. Frisk and I, for the sake of our reopened wounds, both tuned out the lyrics until new ones demanded our attention. 

> \--Can you even say the formula of area now?
> 
> Can you even scream the dreams you swore would never go out? 
> 
> Who was the one who let my hopes just curl up and die? 
> 
> Hey who could it be? 
> 
> No, It's gotta be...

My grip tightened on Frisk's shoulder. At that last line, you had almost turned to completely face them. The coincidence made us both involuntarily shudder. 

> Just open up your eyes, why don't you grow up and see?
> 
> But what the hell is "growing up" and tell me when will I be? 
> 
> Can a single person out there just explain it to me? 
> 
> Hey just tell me how
> 
> It's not like I care now!

You finally stopped dancing. You were panting; the song had been pretty long and you had been moving very quickly almost the entire time. It took you a moment. All of us were so quiet. But eventually you heard Frisk's quiet sobs, and turned. The moment you saw us, your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You must have been too immersed in your dance and the music; you clearly hadn't known we had been watching. If it hadn't been so dark in the room-- all but one of the lights in the room were off-- I would have seen your skin pale by a shade or two.

"Frisk?" you asked softly, still out of breath from the routine. You came closer, but only my hand on their shoulder kept Frisk from running away as you knelt in front of them. I couldn't move. 

"Frisk, are you okay?" you asked them gently, and suddenly I wondered why I hadn't seen that older-sibling side of you before. I could sure as hell see it now. Frisk nodded, paused, then shook their head. You frowned, then leaned back on your heels to look up at me. "Sans, your eye lights are out," you reminded me. I blinked, and you relaxed slightly. It was weird, how I couldn't always feel them come and go. People's reactions were usually enough to tell, though, so I didn't have problems with it often. I took a deep breath.

"Bud," I said to you softly. You stood up, hearing the rare seriousness in my voice and immediately reacting to it. I had your full attention. I glanced down at Frisk, sighing and ruffling their hair. "Kid, I think the two of us need to tell (Y/N) about some things," Frisk flinched but nodded. I looked back up at you. "After practice, let's go to your apartment. Frisk and I will get Tori to let them spend the night with me'n Paps."

"More questions for me?" you asked cautiously, a guarded look in your eyes. I let out a brief chuckle. It sounded strained even to myself.

"More like Frisk and I telling you a lot of stuff, and asking a few questions after."

"What if I can't answer your questions?" your voice was uncharacteristically small. I blinked, not used to you sounding so timid.

"Then just listen," I replied easily, leading the kid away. "Keep practicing. We'll see you later, when all of us are ready to head home, 'kay?"

You nodded numbly. I could tell how confused you were, but I could also tell that you were apprehensive.

What were you hiding from me? Why?   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is the Jubyphonic english dub of "Lost One's Weeping."


	11. Mask Two Torn Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHH over 400 kudos?! You guys are spoiling me. omigosh. Just for that (and my two month absence) you guys will get two chappies this week. 
> 
> Oh, did I mention? As a second reward, this chapter is also in San's POV ;) I received such a good review of the past Sans POV chapter that I just HAVE to do another one for you guys. So, here you go!

SANS POV; 

 

You came into the room where the rest of us usually danced (everyone except me, of course) about twenty minutes later. You just sat next to me like usual, but this time you didn't try to talk or look at me at all. Our usual pun wars were absent. I figured you were still mad at me for just _waltzing_ in on your private dance practice like a jerk. Or maybe you were just thinking about what me and the kid were going to talk to you about later. 

Or maybe you were thinking about whatever it was that that dance was about. Whatever memories made those emotions come out in you during it. 

But, as I sat there staring at Paps and the others without really seeing them, I was reminded about one of the many confusing things about you. You were an enigma, despite being one of my friends, and I was determined to figure out each of your little oddities. 

And one of those oddities was your constant practices. You never danced your own choreography in front of us, ever, which I could understand. And you refused to dance alone, which I could also understand. 

But, then, why had you been dancing a solo on that very first day we met? And even more confusing, you never danced in any competition. Paps and I had asked about the day it was on, and you had just waved it off with some lazy excuse of 'I lost my nerve and quit,' but now that I knew you better I knew that you never quit anything that you had committed to doing. I had even checked every website I could find to see if there were any competitions for that dance in the city, and came up with nothing. 

And that wasn't the last time you practiced alone. Sure, you could probably have been doing dances like the one I had just seen. A dance that was clearly personal and not meant for public viewing,  but I doubted it. I had passed the rooms you had been in privately practicing plenty of times, often I had to knock on the door to tell you when we arrived for our own practice time, or when someone had invited you to hang out for one reason or another. I had never heard hip hop music playing in that room until today, even if I could never quite make out the exact songs through the door. 

So what was it? Why did you constantly practice on your own if you never planned to dance a solo or your own choreography for anyone?

"SANS!"

I was jolted out of my thoughts when I heard Toriel call my name, and looked up at her. Based on the fact that her hands were on her hips, I figured she had been calling my name for a while. Your giggles at my side just helped support that hypothesis. 

"Yeah?" 

"We are just about to leave, but Frisk said you wanted to talk to me about them staying with you and Papyrus for the night?" Oh, shit. I had been so deep in thought that I had almost let them walk away with Frisk. If that had happened, I would have had to pull a risky stunt and teleport Frisk over to your place. There was no way I was going to stall our little chat, but having Frisk over at our place with everyone else's knowledge and permission was a lot easier.

"Heh, yeah," I stood up and put my hands in my hoodie pockets. Before I could explain though, you were at my side interrupting her. 

"I wanted to show the both of them a few movies I thought they'd like. It would take too long for just a visit though, so Frisk and Sans said that they might be able to just have them sleep over at Sans and Papyrus' apartment when we're done, though we might just end up passing out in my living room."

Toriel clapped her hands, delighted. "Actually, that is quite convenient! Asgore-" the name dropped from her lips with a tinge of annoyance "and I have to go over some paperwork today. Apparently the human government is having a problem with the fact that not all monsters conform to the standard 'male' and 'female' binary. They are making such a fuss over what restrooms we can use-- oh, I apologize, I was about to rant," she smoothed her dress. "Anyhow, I was hoping to ask Undyne and Alphys to babysit Frisk while we did our paperwork, but this works just as well! Frisk has been asking to spend more time with you, you know," Apparently what Toriel said made you blush, and I couldn't help how it made my grin widen.

"As long as the kid doesn't get to _Frisky_ ," I said with a wink. You, Toriel, and the kid erupted into giggles. Papyrus' groan interrupted us. 

"AS MUCH AS I WANT TO IGNORE THAT PUN AND SAY THAT I WILL ALSO ENJOY THE SPONTANEOUS MOVIE NIGHT, I HAVE ALREADY PLANNED TO GO OVER TO UNDYNE'S TODAY. I SHALL SEE YOU ALL WHEN I RETURN IN THE MORNING!" 

"Got it, bro," I had already known about it, of course. 

"Don't worry Paps, I'll make sure we have another movie night soon so you can come," you told him with a soft smile. Stars damn it, you were so good to Pap. He laughed happily and I grabbed you and Frisk's shoulders before the conversation could continue. 

"Alright, see you when you get home bro," I nodded to him and took a shortcut with the both of you. When we landed, we were right in front of your door. You staggered a bit, and I let go of Frisk to steady you. The first shortcut was always hard on people. 

"Kid, go drop your stuff off in me 'n Pap's place," they nodded and ran off. They had a spare key, since it was easier that way, but as a result I never let Papyrus stay in our apartment alone unless I knew  _e x a c t l y_ where Frisk was and could keep an eye on them. Who knew when the little demon would come back? 

"Listen, bud," I said when I turned my attention back to you. "What we're gonna talk about... its heavy. And we're telling you because that dance we saw--" I ignored how you flinched when I mentioned the dance-- "It brought back some bad memories for us. And the emotions you showed? They show us that we can trust you with this, with these secrets. You can't tell anybody about anything we talk about okay? Nobody."

You frowned, confusion clear in your eyes. "Nobody?" You asked, voice soft. "What could we be talking about that--" you were cut off when Frisk came back, looking up at you. You took a deep breath before turning to the plain wood door to your apartment and unlocking it for us, letting us in. 

Once we got settled in on your couch, I took a deep breath and started. Stars, this wasn't going to be easy. 

"Okay. Let's start from the beginning. A long time ago, the very first human fell into the underground-- no, hold your questions until the end or I might not be able to finish," I interrupted you when you opened your mouth to speak. You shut it, nodding. "Back then, Toriel and Asgore were still together and they had a son named Asriel. Yes, yes, it's just a mix of their two names. That's what you get when you let King Fluffybuns name a kid. The new human, Chara, was quickly adopted by Toriel and Asgore. They became best friends with Asriel, practically siblings. But Chara hated humans, and wanted to free monsters. So they made Asriel agree to a plan of theirs. They killed themselves by eating buttercups that grew in the king's garden, and Asriel absorbed their soul like they had planned. He crossed the barrier with Chara's soul, and he should have killed six humans like they had agreed in order to break the barrier... but  Asriel couldn't. He laid Chara in a bed of golden flowers when the humans started attacking him, believing he had killed the kid. He didn't fight back, he just let them hit him and went back home, where he collapsed and died when he reached his house. Asgore declared, in anger, that every human child to fall in the future would be killed for their soul--" you didn't gasp. You didn't look surprised, only sad. Why didn't this surprise you? "But research on other ways to break the barrier didn't stop. Alphys researched creation of an artificial human soul using Determination extracted from the souls that had been gathered. The DT got injected into a golden flower from the new patch behind Asgore's home, where Asriel had dropped dead. The DT brought Asriel's dust, which had went into the flowers, back to life-- in a way. This was only a few years before Frisk fell into the underground. A flower came to life, a face and all-- yes, it was Flowey-- and Flowey is actually Asriel, but the DT only brought him back to life as a flower, he is still missing his soul. Because of that, Flowey is nothing like Asriel, he only shares Asriel's memories. But Flowey gained something else--" I frowned. This was where it got hard. Frisk put a hand on my arm, and looked up. They picked up where I left off, giving me a break. 

**"The DT allowed Flowey to do something nobody else could do. Mess with time. He could now SAVE and RESET and LOAD, like in a video game. He did this over an-- are you okay?"**

You were crying. The word RESET had broken the dam behind your eyes, and you were crying in front of us now. I reached forward to comfort you, but you shook your head and gently pushed my hand away. You were shaking,  _trembling,_ and you started to explain in an equally trembling voice; 

"that's what it is? a reset?" Your voice had lost all its vigor. It reminded me of my own voice, when I spoke in all lowercase whenever I didn't have any hope for anything. I had finally gotten out of that habit after so long above ground, but hearing you do the same thing nearly tore me apart. You didn't even speak in font. "and that damn flowey is the one that started them? i- stars i lived through the same day over and over and over again! and there's a name for it. a name for it! i'm not crazy, oh stars i'm not crazy. i've gone through the same scenario so many times that i can't even remember what i did to get out of it in this timeline. my memories are screwed up, and i thought i was damned to live the SAME FUCKING DAY over and over again for so long-- I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy, it has a name. It has a name!" At least your capitalization was back. But this answered a very important question I had had for a long time. 

You knew. You remembered. Every timeline, you remembered just like I did. I watched your trembling form as you muttered incoherently about how you finally knew what it was, what had been happening, and I felt helpless. I wasn't able to comfort you, because you would push me away. I knew better than to try more than twice. You had to get through this revelation on your own. Then we would continue the story. 

 

 


	12. Examine the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're done with your revelation. Time to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been more than a week since the last chapter. Sue me. Actually, don't do that because I'm broke. Also, back to normal POV.

It was roughly ten minutes since you started crying. You were done now, eyes red but dry. Your rambling had stopped after two or three minutes, but your tears had ended only after five or six. Now, your last sniffles faded away and you nodded to Frisk. 

"Okay," you told them, clearing your throat to rid your voice of its harsh croak. "Okay, continue Frisk." They nodded back, and raised their hands to resume signing. 

 **"Okay. So Flowey, bored and without the emotions that would dwell in a normal soul, Reset over and over again. After a while the Seventh human, who would become the sixth soul that Asgore captured, fell into the underground. They survived for three years, pretending to be a monster and living in an abandoned house halfway between the ruins and Snowdin, where Sans and Papyrus lived in the underground. They had ran into Asgore on accident, that was when he took their soul. During the time that they were alive their Determination, since it is a trait inside all human souls, outweighed the small amount that had been injected into Flowey. He lost the ability to Reset while they lived in the underground, and he hadn't known why. The human had also been unable to Reset, allowing time to go back to its normal flow. When the human died, Flowey had regained his power-- but he was oblivious to that fact. He went almost five more years thinking that he was unable to Reset or Load again, until he Saved by accident. He started Loading, about to resume his rapid amount of Resetting and Loading, but he let one run go on for a day too long. I fell into the Underground, and his power was once again eclipsed by the Determination in my human soul,"** Frisk laid their hand on the center of their chest, looking down for a moment. Sans took over the explanation again, his deep voice solemn. It hurt you to hear his voice used in such a pained tone. It was a voice you associated with puns, and laziness, and harmless pranks. A voice you associated with worry free days and friends and a happiness that had been missing from your life for three years. It was a voice you associated with your new best friend, Sans. It didn't deserve the pain it was laced with. The pain sounded so out of place. 

"Frisk has more than just the normal determination in a human soul, though," he explained softly. "Determination is their primary trait. They have a red soul, so completely and purely red that it did more than take Flowey's power over time away. You see, the other child that fell might have had Determination, but their primary Soul trait dampened the effect of the Determination and made it impossible for the child to control time. Frisk didn't have that problem. The control over time passed to them." 

Your eyes slid to Frisk. They met your gaze, but then looked away with shame. You felt a deep fury build up inside you, but you squashed them as best as you could. Frisk was responsible? Why? You had to know the reasoning behind what happened before you let your anger get the best of you. 

"There were three hundred and fourty-seven Loads and Resets in the two days before Monsters broke the barrier," you said in a blank voice, your gaze never leaving Frisk's bowed head. After a moment, they looked up at you. 

 **"Let us explain, then,"** they signed.  **"You see, when I use sign language to talk to you, I am Frisk."**

Frisk opened their mouth, and you heard their voice for the first time. "However, when I speak, I am Chara. The first human that fell, and the human that died trying to free monsters. After I died and was absorbed by Asriel, my Soul shattered at the same time that Asriel's body turned to dust. The shards never completely faded, however. When Frisk fell, their Determination was so strong that it awoke the Determination in my own soul and pulled the shards back together. To stay alive, I possessed Frisk's body. For a long time I was dormant, trying to figure out what was going on as I regained my consciousness slowly. Frisk wasn't a complete pacifist at first even though they hated fighting, but soon they killed a monster on mistake. They had Loaded plenty of times before that, but only when they died and wanted to continue their journey. But after their mistake of killing Toriel-- again, it had been a complete accident-- they Reset for the first time. They had been Attacking monsters in Fights to allow them to escape easier, but Frisk now knew that Attacking was wrong. They Reset in order to fix their mistake and continue on like a true pacifist," you didn't miss how Sans was rigid, watching Frisk-- no, Chara-- with an unwavering glare. He didn't trust them, then. That fact made you uncomfortable. If Sans didn't trust Chara, then you wouldn't either. 

Chara was staring at you as they spoke, never removing their gaze from your face. "I wasn't like Frisk. After Asriel had died, I felt as if he had betrayed me. Instead of only hating humans, I grew to hate monsters as well because of that fact. We had agreed that he would absorb my soul, kill six humans, and free monsters. He betrayed me by not killing them-- at least, that was how I thought back then. My consciousness had completely returned after Frisk's first Reset, and I began to flex my own muscles. I took over their body little by little. I would twitch their body so that they died in a fight when they missed a step in the dance battle, which would force them to load. Or I would stop their legs from moving until a monster came by and started a new fight. This forced them to Load over and over again, as they now died more often than before. I would even take control of their eyes from time to time, making them walk through areas based only on memory. This made them miss save points, so they went back farther the next time they died," Chara's voice was blank, unrepentant. They had accepted what they had done in the past. You hated their voice. 

"Eventually, I gained enough strength to take full control of their body. I could only do it for a short while at first. I would control them long enough to kill a monster, or force a Reset. You see, I knew by this point that my own broken Soul grew stronger after every Load as it disassociated from Time and therefore its own shattering. I realized a Reset would restore my strength even more, and forced Resets using Frisk's body as often as possible until I could finally control their body for as long as I wanted," you were glad you had held back your anger. Frisk was only responsible for loads and one Reset. You could forgive them for that, the Reset was justified and so were the Loads. Not many people would want to stay dead, after all, if they had the ability to come back. Now your anger directed itself to Chara. 

"I began killing. I hated the monsters after all, and ignored Frisk in our shared subconscious as they kicked and screamed and begged me to stop. I began to love killing. Frisk took control back from me a few times, forcing a Reset each time to bring back all the monsters I had killed. Each time, they gained control later and later. The first time they regained control was after I had already killed every monster in the Ruins, the first area of the Underground, and had been about to kill Toriel. Then, after I regained control again and went on another genocide path, Frisk regained control when I was  _just about_ to kill Papyrus-" Oh my god. Papyrus? That innocent little cinnamon bunny? 

"You didn't," you found yourself saying, horrified. Chara tilted their head at you. 

"So you don't say a word when you hear that I killed Toriel, but suddenly you're horrified when I mention Papyrus?" They examined your face in silence for a moment. "Interesting." 

You felt Sans scoot towards you ever so slightly. You couldn't tell if it was because he was grateful that you cared about Papyrus so much, or if he was worried about you because of the way Chara watched you. You didn't look over at him to find out. 

"Don't worry, comedian," Chara said to Sans, distaste on their voice when they said the word comedian. "Frisk Saved right before they entered this apartment. Entering her," Chara gestured to you,  "Home for the first time filled them with Determination, despite the talk they knew we had to have," Chara turned their attention back to you. Anyway, soon it came to the point where I was able to kill every monster in the Underground besides Sans and Asgore. And Flowey, if you want to count that soulless weed. Now, Sans is the Judge," the stout Skeleton shifted, clearly not comfortable about Chara telling you that without his permission. "Besides Asgore, Sans is the only monster in the underground able to see all of a human's STATS and their soul color without bringing the soul out of the body. It is his job to punish criminals after reviewing all their STATS and examining their reasoning behind their actions. He had always avoided fighting Frisk, no matter how many people I had killed before Frisk had taken control back from me, because he could sense Frisk's presence and hoped that they could take over from me again. He didn't want to kill Frisk, since they were innocent. This time though, I had killed too many and was still in control when I reached him so he was left with no choice but to fight," Chara smiled. You hated that smile for some reason, even if it was on Frisk's face. "You should see the way he dances when he is left with no other choice, hip hop girl. Yeah, I saw your dance earlier too since I'm still in Frisk's body. I see what they see. Sans' style of dance is hip hop, and he was the strongest monster in the underground surprisingly. I was shocked, the first time I fought him. I died in two seconds flat!" Chara's voice had taken on a childish energy that you found disturbing. They giggled. You hated that giggle. "I fought him over and over and over again! I kept dying, but I kept fighting. Only Undyne had given me so much trouble, but he is even stronger than her. It took me five times longer to beat Sans than it did for me to beat Undyne, but eventually I did it. I lasted long enough to exhaust him!" Chara frowned. "But then Frisk gained control in the last moment and SPARED him--" Sans cut Chara off. 

"i take responsibility for this," he was speaking to you, not Chara. His gaze was firmly on you, and he didn't move his eye lights away from your eyes. You met his stare evenly, paying full attention to him. "i couldn't let them leave, even if frisk had gained control to spare me. i knew that Chara had grown too powerful, and could regain control at any moment. so i let frisk hug me, and used the last power i had available-- my real trump card. the power that only the monster who is appointed as judge has. Absolute Mercy. when somebody has committed a grievous crime-- like genocide," he quickly glared Chara before returning his gaze to you. "i have the ability to send one attack to them outside of a dance battle, a physical attack that tears through both soul and body. no other monster can send a physical attack like that with their magic, and i can only do it if the criminal wants to atone-- even if it is only a small spark of their conscious that wants it. frisk's momentary control allowed me to use that power to kill them." 

You stared at him. He killed Frisk? You sighed, and put your hand on his shoulder. He shook his head before you could speak. 

"wait," he told you, his voice hoarse. 

"Yes, wait," Chara interrupted gleefully. "I'm not done yet! I was able to gain control from Frisk fast enough to make sure that we only Loaded instead of Reset. So I fought Sans again, and lost over and over once more since his dance patterns are hard to keep up with even if I know what comes next, and to make matters worse Frisk was gaining their own power back and would use the same trick against me that I had used so long before that. They would momentarily gain control, even if just for a second, to kill us. Three or four more times I lasted long enough to exhaust Sans, and each time Frisk gained control at the end to Spare Sans again and let him kill us. Eventually, I killed even Sans. Then Asgore, then Flowey, who was nothing but a fear controlled dolt by that time. Once that was done, it was just me and Frisk alone in our shared mind. They stared at me, since they could see my body now that I had stopped controlling them and let my spirit stand in front of them. They spoke to me for the first time with their voice, and when they were done they killed themselves to force a Restart," Chara noticed your flinch at that, but misread it as sympathy. "What? I thought you'd hate them. Us. After all, the two of us are stuck together in the same body. If they truly wanted to save all those monsters and stop Resetting, they should have had enough Determinstion to stop me, right?" 

"I've had enough of you," you growled at Chara. "Frisk, you can control your mouth again sweetie. Thanks for keeping your body in firm control, I appreciate it." Frisk's head nodded even as Chara used their mouth to say: 

"Wait! No this is the first time in three years that you've allowed me to do shit! You will let me--" Frisk's mouth snapped shut, and their hands moved up. 

**"I do have that determination. Chara's Soul had been leaching off my soul for a long time though, so I had to regain my determination before I could regain control of my body. That last Reset gave me the last strength I needed. I had to give Chara something of my body to keep in order to keep them restricted, in order to keep their soul from gaining control again. So I gave them my voice. It ties them to my body, as if they were another limb. They won't gain control again. If it ever happened though, Chara can't speak sign language. They never learned, and can't read what I say. I have to translate for them inside our mind. After the last Reset, I went through a pacifist run like I had wanted to after my very first Reset. I found out about Asriel being Flowey, and all the other secrets of the Underground. Asriel and I broke the barrier. Now that we are out, the magic contained in the underground bled out. It had been the build up of magic from centuries of monsters being trapped inside the barrier that had made Resets possible at all. My prolonged exposure makes it possible for me to still Save and Load, but Resetting is impossible now. I also have to Save at least once a day, or else it might go away entirely. One day it will, but for now I will stay Determined enough to make sure that I can at least Load to keep my new family alive and happy."**

You stared at Frisk, biting your lip. "That's... a lot to take in," you told them, looking over at Sans. He wouldn't meet your gaze. "Hey! Hey, Sans," you put your hand on his shoulder again, and this time he wouldn't stop what you wanted to say. He slowly looked up to meet your gaze. "Sans. I don't hate you for killing Frisk. The kid is still your friend, right?" He nodded slowly. "Of course they are," you nodded to Frisk. "Because Frisk is just as much a victim as you are. They love all of you, seeing their own body kill each of you must have been torture. Bad enough for them to understand your own pain of watching your friends die, and your brother..." you trailed off, but the light in Sans' eye sockets grew a little brighter and he sat up a little bit straighter. 

"I... Max told me something happened to your sister. Is she..?" You blinked. And looked down. 

"Oh, uh..." you scuffed your foot. Frisk looked shocked, obviously not having heard this before. 

"Is it possible that Frisk is your sister?" Sans asked slowly. "I mean, Resetting and Loading that often, it's easy to forget--" 

"No!" You laughed, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes. You suddenly bent over, laughing. "No, no, no!" Frisk was laughing with you now. "No, I would never forget how my sister looked. If my sister had only gone missing, then I would have been looking for her and staring at missing person's posters for her through every Reset, there's no way I would have forgotten what she looked like. And even if I saw her suddenly happy with a new family, I would have just rushed in to join the family with her! Screw our biological mom! And our foster mom would understand," you shook your head, then looked down sadly at your hands. "No. The issue with my sister is permanent." 

"What happened?" Sans asked hesitantly. You sighed.

"We've spoken about enough gloomy things today," you were desperate to change the subject. "And Frisk looks so depressed-- I don't blame you for the Resets! If it had only been that first one, I wouldn't be mad at all! It had been for a good reason. Come on, let's watch a movie. You choose, Frisk!" You pointed Frisk over to your movie collection, moving with them to overview their choices. 

Sans never got another chance that night to ask about your sister. His curiosity increased. It seemed like you were the only one that got any real answers that night. 


	13. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We understand why Frisk was familiar at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter brought to you by my guilt that some people found the last chapter confusing and my sudden shock wave of inspiration. You are welcome. 
> 
> Or maybe not because this is not a fluffy chapter.
> 
> AND WE FINALLY REACHED 500 KUDOS?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!! OMG YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! I LOVE YOU ALL TO DEATH (that was a pun based on this chapter, have fun with that)!!!!!

You loved your friends. Watching movies with Sans and Frisk was relaxing, enjoyable. And the jokes that the three of you shared helped all of you forget about the tense conversation you had just a few hours ago. You watched the television as the colors flitted across the screen in beautiful shapes, occasionally leaning back to gaze at one of your two best friends. Sure, you had known Max and Synthia for longer. But honestly? Sans and Frisk both remembered every single Reset and Load, just like you, and they had went through their own immeasurable pain because of them. Honestly, you couldn't begin to understand what it must have been like to see your own body kill your friends over and over again, and not be able to stop it. And Sans... oh, having to be the last monster alive besides Asgore and the murderous flower must have been pure torture. Imagining a place where an entire race used to live, suddenly devoid of life besides yourself, a murderer, and a troubled king..? It sent shivers down your spine. You didn't notice the glances Sans was shooting at you, the lights in his eye sockets filled with overflowing curiosity. 

Soon the time came where your eyelids started to droop. Glancing at the clock, you saw that it was past two in the morning. You nudged Sans awake, he has slept through the last movie. It took a few nudged before he groggily groaned and cracked one eye socket open. When his pinprick of light met your gaze, he sighed and sat up to wake up properly. You gave him a moment. 

"Wha' is it?" He asked, husky sleep-voice sending a very inappropriate tingle up the back of your neck. You scolded yourself internally, completely confused as to why his sleepy voice had that effect on you. 

"Its two in the morning, so--" he glanced at the time and then stood up, interrupting you. He made his way over to the kid and picked them up. 

"Got it, we'll go--" 

"no!" You said a bit too quickly, eyes wide as you noticed your voice had slipped back into what you called your hopeless voice. You cleared your throat and said, in a softer tone so you didn't wake Frisk up, "No, it's fine. Frisk can sleep in my bed, and I can pull out my old sleeping bag and take the floor." 

Sans actually managed to turn his perma-smile into a frown, his bright gaze looking at you worriedly. He said your name softly, then continued, "Are you okay?" You opened your mouth to lie, then realized it probably wouldn't work. Lying to Sans was usually not possible, unless he wasn't in the same room as you. It seemed like all he needed was to look into your soul or your eyes in order to determine whether or not you were telling him the truth. Taking note of this fact, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair. What you didn't notice was the sparks of sorrow that entered your eyes, the sparks that Sans saw and watched apprehensively until they eventually hid themselves again. 

"No," you whispered to him honestly. "I mean, I put on a brave face for Frisk since I know they're probably blaming themselves for all the Resets and every horrible thing that little demon inside them did," you saw Sans smirk a bit at your nickname for Chara. You didn't know it was because Sans hadn't been calling Chara by the same nickname since before the end of the Resets. You both quickly sobered again when you remembered what you were talking about. "But really? Just being reminded that the Loads and Resets happened..." you stared at your feet, missing Sans' concerned stare. "It's got me rattled, no pun intended," you two shared a pathetic chuckle. Sans slowly put Frisk down on the couch, laying them out and covering them with a small blanket you had leant to them during the movie marathon. 

"Me too, if I'm honest," he responded in an equally soft whisper. "I don't like remembering that it all happened. The underground wasn't the best place to begin with, but at least we had been able to live our lives fairly peacefully and happily before Flowey and Chara got involved," you studied his face, memorizing it. The eye sockets, and his perma-grin, and how expressive they were. All the tiny chinks and imperfections that were barely noticeable on the paper-white, seemingly marble-smooth bone. His gaze met yours, and he seemed to understand why you were staring at him. This time you didn't miss the concern in his gaze. 

"Hey," he said gently, taking a step towards you to put his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, the kid said it, didn't they? No more Resets. You don't have to memorize my face, because I'm not going anywhere. These three years aren't going anywhere." 

"You don't know that," you argued, trying hard to keep the whine out of your voice. 

"Yes I do." 

"No, you don't," you chuckled sadly. "You're trying to convince yourself just as much as me, I hear it in your voice," you said as you noticed him taking in every detail of your own face. For a moment the two of you stood there, staring at each other. "But you're right. These three years aren't going anywhere, I'm not going anywhere. We're fine. The pain is over." 

"The pain is over," he agreed. 

You two kept staring, memorizing each other's face because neither of you believed your own bullshit. Frisk said that they had made Chara like another limb, tying Chara into their own control by making Chara responsible for their voice. But what if Chara found a way to detach themselves from Frisk's voice and gain control again? Then they would Load, even if they couldn't Reset anymore. What if Chara killed one of you, or Papyrus, or the others, for shits and giggles and saved over their deaths? You couldn't be sure how much longer you could stay alive with all of them. 

"Stay here," you said gently. He nodded. 

"Yeah. I'll sleep with the kid on the couch, they're small enough. You can take your own bed--" 

"No," you shook your head. "I need to be in the same room as you, please," you were too distraught to blush at what you said. "Let Frisk sleep in my bed. You can take the couch and I'll take the floor. It's an easy fix, and I won't wake up wondering if you're dead or if it's yesterday again," Sans sighed, glancing at Frisk. 

"No, if I move them too far they'll wake up and you need to have a comfortable sleep. You're going in your own bed." 

"Fine then sleep with me," you said instantly. Five silent seconds passed before you realized what you said and blushed. "I-I-I mean next to me!" You hissed at his own blueberry of a face. He let out a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck-- vertebrae? 

"Okay. I guess," he said with a shrug. "But not too close, I can get violent in my sleep," he warned you. You blinked, staring at him. 

"You were going to sleep with Frisk on the couch, by you get violent in your sleep?" He shrugged. 

"I don't have to worry much about Frisk, they can dodge pretty well and one of my attacks won't kill 'em. Once they're awake they know how to wake me up from a nightmare." 

"Oh," you blinked, realizing that it must be the nightmares that made him violent in sleep, not just a habit of being a violent sleeper. Your face melted into understanding. "I get it. I can get pretty bad with my nightmares, too. I'm sure we'll be alright though, I mainly yell I don't kick or punch or anything that might put you at risk," you said, remembering he only had one HP. He smiled, letting out a shaky laugh. 

"Guess we're nightmare buddies then. First one to wake up helps the other out of it." You knew that the unspoken agreement was that neither of you would ask the other about what the nightmare was about, either. 

"Deal," you said easily, shaking his hand. You both giggled a bit at your own silliness before you led him to your room and you both slid under the covers. There was about a foot of space between you, but it was comfortable space. Enough to make sure that nothing got awkward or overly cuddly, but not enough to take away the knowledge that there was another person in the bed if you needed comfort. You weren't alone. 

It was nice. 

After a minute, you heard Sans say your name softly. 

"Yeah?" You asked, turning to face him. He looked a little nervous. 

"You sure you're okay sleeping in the same room as me? I mean, I killed Frisk-- a little kid. More than once--" you interrupted him with a shake of your head. 

"Sans, please. If anything I should be asking you that question, I killed somebody too." 

"But it was in self defense--" 

"So was yours," you retorted. "Besides, remember the first story I told you, back at Grillby's?" He nodded. "That was the very first run. That was what happened before the very first Reset," you explained. "It just so happened that the point Flowey always Reset to was, for me, right after my bedtime on the day that my biological father tried to get me and my sister to kill that little girl. I was already locked in my room, past the point of no return. I tried every combination, Sans. I tried to get the happiest ending possible, since I had been a kid stuck in a bad situation. After the first Reset, I saved the girl but my sister ended up in a coma. There was one Reset where, when my dad put the knife in my hand and shoved me away, I landed on my sister instead of the other girl," you choked on your words a bit, and didn't elaborate. Sans didn't need any elaboration, the horror on his face showed that he understood what you had just told him. There had been a Reset from before Frisk fell into the underground where you had accidentally killed your own sister.

"Obviously," you continued, "I ended on the outcome that Max told you about. My sister and the girl survived, but my dad died. It wasn't the best outcome I had been able to reach in the past, but I have to accept it. I killed him multiple times, too, I ended up being responsible for that girl's and my sister's deaths in multiple Resets. I get it," you smiled at him. "So I can't blame you for what you did to Frisk, and they obviously understand too. So go to sleep, Sans, and quit worrying about the past," you felt like such a hipocrite. You worried about the past every day. But you knew that this was what Sans needed to hear. 

He smiled back at you and nodded. You two turned away from each other and faded away into sleep. 

~~~~~

  **Nightmare Alert! If you are triggered by violence AT ALL, you have been warned! Read at your own risk! This is VERY GRAPHIC. Blood warning, death warning, all the warnings.**

**~~~~~**

_It was dark. The moon shone through the window, it was the only source of light in the room. The floor's wooden panels gleamed in it. You sat on the bed, your tiny sister behind you. You might have been a child yourself, but your sister was three years younger and you couldn't help but think that she was too young for this shit. Sure, you were too, but her even more so._

_Your father stood in front of you two. He smelled like rotten cigarettes and piss and blood. He waved a gleaming steak knife in the air in front of your face, holding a girl the same age as you by the back of her shirt. He was kneeled on the girl's legs as he held the knife out to you._

_"Do it," his filthy voice ordered, smooth and warm and charismatic. It was the voice women dreamed of, the voice that allowed him to lure in his prey. "I'm holding her still for you, my little murderer."_

_"No," you heard yourself say, slipping off the bed. "No, I won't do it! I'm not evil like you are!" He snorted._

_"The child of a wolf is a wolf, the child of a lion is a lion, so the child of a killer must be a killer as well," he drones as if bored of your argument. "Your sister must be the child of a worm, because she's a spineless little bug," he sneered at your sibling, cowering behind you still. It was no secret that your sister was the child of your mom and your step dad, not this murdering welp that was in front of you now. He looked at you with his beautiful green hazel eyes, another component of the web that caught his prey. He looked at you with a perverse version of fatherly love, seeing something in your eyes that made him think that you were just as twisted a being as he was._

_"You're not spineless, right? Take the goddamned knife and do it!" He ordered again. You shook your head._

_"Let her go!"_

_"You just need some persuasion," he whispered eerily. Before you could react, his hand was clasped around your wrist and he was off of the girl's legs, pulling you towards his towering frame. He slid something in the hand he grasped, and lowered his face next to your ear. You could smell his stinking breath as he whispered, just for you to hear; "Now be a good little daughter, and do as your father tells you~" his strength, easily triple your own, concentrated on your shoulder as he spun you around fast enough to disorient you, and shoved you so hard that your childish coordination couldn't fight it. You tripped._

_You landed on something... soft. Your head didn't. It had hit something hard, and now you felt dizzy. You were numb for a moment thanks to whatever you had hit your head on. What finally brought you out of your dazed state was the feeling of something warm and wet on your hand, like that one time your step dad pranked you by setting your hand in warm water to make you pee the bed. You peeled you eyes open, and startled. Your eyes were gazing into the gaping eyes of the girl-- the girl! She wasn't blinking._

_"H-hey, I'll protect you now, please don't look so scared," you whispered to her. The wetness on your hand, coupled with her lack of reaction, nagged at you. You slowly looked down, seeing that your hand was covered in blood. The knife your father had shoved in your hand was buried deeply into the girl's chest. You were so shocked that you were still, not daring to move your hand. It felt as if releasing the knife would somehow make things worse. But the girl was dead, things could GET much worse._

_You let go, and stood up. You expected to hear your father's praise, but when you turned around and readied your knife to retaliate against him and end his reign of pain, you stopped at the sight._

_You dropped the knife._

_Your father was dead, his body slumped against the wall in a bloody heap with another knife, like the one you had just pulled from the dead girl's body, sticking from his chest. This was wrong. This hadn't happened! His eyes were open, staring at you. Blood dribbled from his mouth. You turned to look at your sister, but she was dead too, her body sprawled across the bed with another twin to the steak knife you held buried in her stomach. Blood was everywhere. It was pouring endlessly from all three bodies, it  covered the floor. You screamed. You begged everything to stop. You raised the knife and stabbed yourself, but you didn't die. You stabbed yourself again, feeling the blade penetrate your flesh and sink into your muscles, but you didn't die. You crumpled onto the ground, the blood pouring from the three bodies now high enough to cover your knees from your crumpled position on the floor._

_"Murderer," the dead girl whispered._

_"My little killer," your dead father said proudly._

_"You said everything would be fine," your dead sister whined._

_The blood level rose._

_You stabbed yourself again, this time in the stomach. You saw the wound, you saw your own blood pouring out to join the pool of it rising in the room, but you didn't die._

_You stabbed yourself over and over._

_You didn't die._

_You didn't die._

_Why wouldn't you die?!_

_The blood was at your chest now. Blood filled your mouth. Went up your nose. Clogged your ears. Soon you drowned in it, there was nothing but blood. Thick, sticky, dark blood that filled you inside and out, stained you inside and out._

_Your sister's face appeared in front of you, visible even through the thick and viscous liquid. It was older, in her mid teens. That was what she looked like before the incident that happened far after your father was out of the picture. Far after you were adopted by your foster mother. This was how you remembered your sister, this was he image you yearned to see again._

_But your sister sneered at you._

_"You killed me,"_

_"No! No I didn't!"_

_"Everything that happened is your fault!"_

_"No! Forgive me! I love you!"_

_"You never loved me."_

_"I've never stopped loving you, come back!"_

_"Rot in your own blood," she said, hissing your name. "If you hadn't have been born, everything would be better."_

_"But-"_

_Another voice was saying your name. You felt yourself being dragged away, but  clawed through the blood surrounding you to get to your sister._

_"-p" the odd voice from far away called. You were dragged back by an unseen force. The invisible voice said your name again._

_~~~~~_

**Nightmare Over! Safe to resume**

**~~~~~**

"Wake up," it was Sans' voice. "Come on, it's okay. Everything's okay," he said your name a few more times. You took a deep breath, keeping your eyes closed for a moment longer. Sans took note of your deep breath, and loosened his grip on your shoulders. When you were calm, you opened your eyes and saw him half-leaning over you. When he was sure you were awake, he leaned back into a sitting position beside you. You joined him, forcing your groggy body up into a sitting position. 

For a long time the two of you were silent, you because you were trying to deal with what you just experienced and Sans out of respect because he knew what you were doing. You were the first to speak. 

"Thanks," you croaked. Eww, your throat was horribly sore. You winced. "I take it I screamed?" Sans nodded. 

"Yeah. Woke Frisk up, I would have been able to wake you up a bit faster but I figured you wouldn't want them seeing you like that so I spent some time convincing them not to come in," you grinned at him gratefully, the expression drooping with exhaustion and melancholy. "I take it it was a pretty bad one?" He asked, and you could tell he knew the answer. Still, you nodded. 

"Yeah. One of the worst in a long time, actually," you answered. He rubbed the back of his head. 

"Sorry." 

"For what?" You tilted your head, confused. He sighed. 

"It was probably our discussion yesterday that made you have such a bad nightmare. I'm sorry," you waved it off, telling him not to worry about it. 

"Oh, and," Sans continued, "Where do you keep your bandaids?" You furrowed your eyebrows, confused at his question. 

"Why..?" He blinked, worry seeping into his eyelights. 

"You really don't know?" You shook your head. He pointed to your arms wordlessly. Looking down, you saw your arms were covered in bleeding nail marks and winced. Now that you saw them, the pain registered and you could feel every tiny half-moon injury burning on your arm. 

"Oh," you muttered, being able to figure out pretty easily when exactly you started to do that in your sleep. "Hold on, there are too many to use bandaids for. Let me get the gauze from my closet," you told him, slipping out of bed. You felt him come over to help you search as you entered your small walk in closet, and bent down to pull out a box labeled "memories." 

You peeled off the tape and pulled back the flaps of the box with a heavy sigh. You never thought you'd need gauze again, so you had packed your last two rolls away in this box. Luckily they were at the top, so you didn't have to go digging through your past. 

You pulled the gauze or of the box and began expertly wrapping your wounds, one arm at a time, and then finishing the wrappings off with a small bit of medical tape-- also from the Memories box. 

"Hey, is this Frisk?" Sans asked, pulling out a picture that was at the top of the box. You raised an eyebrow at him. 

"What? That impossible," you leaned over and he angled the photo for you to see. Sure enough, it was a picture of two people. One was a young Frisk, looked to be only about seven, and the other person was a girl about thirteen. Your eyes widened. "Ah! That's why I thought Frisk looked familiar back when I first met them!" You exclaimed, looking over at Sans. "See that girl," you pointed to the young teenager in the picture. "That's my sister from her first year of high school. She was in dance team back then, and she met Frisk when they held a dance camp for elementary kids!" You were smiling wide, suddenly remembering those days.

"My sister was just about to turn fourteen, and I was seventeen. That was the year I graduated," you explained. "Frisk attended the dance camp, and my sister quickly became attached to the kid. Brought them and their mom over to meet me and our foster mom, and pretty soon the two were best friends, even though Frisk was six years younger than my sister. Sleepovers, picnics," you chuckled. "I must have forgotten because I moved to college only two or three months after they met. I learned about most of their best-friend adventures through emails from Mom. By the time I graduated and came back, my sister said Frisk had just moved away," you sighed and took the photo away from Sans, staring at it fondly for a moment before placing it back in the box with the leftover gauze and medical tape. You spoke as you resealed the box. 

"Then, only a week after I got back after graduating college, the Resets started again," Sans hummed in understanding.

"The kid must have been pretty mad about the move and ran up the mountain," Sans thought out loud. He turned his head to the closet door. "Is that what happened, kid?" You jumped, startled, and turned to see that Frisk was most definitely there in the closet doorway. They shook their head, then moved their hand in a seesaw motion to indicate "kinda."

 **"My parents were not nice to me. I was mad about the move, but they had also started being meaner to me since they didn't have anyone to worry about seeing my bruises anymore. I got mad and ran away to try and find their house, but got lost and decided to climb the mountain instead when I heard my parents not far behind me. I had somehow gotten close to Mt. Ebott anyway, so it was the fastest choice. The rest is history,"** they shrugged. You frowned. 

"Well, at least you have a family that cares now," you said, standing up and ruffling their hair. "Come on, I'll make us some breakfast and maybe take you so see my Mom next week if Toriel is okay with it. I'm sure she'd like to see you again, even if my sister isn't here to welcome you too. C'mon Sans what do you want to eat?" 

"Scrambled eggs is fine," he said as he followed you to the kitchen. You snorted. 

"You're just saying that because it's okay to eat eggs with ketchup." 

"... Dang it I was hoping you wouldn't notice." 


	14. The Festival (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: The Fluff that was Much Needed (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii! Okay guys I fell in love with a story that is sooo underrated. It is gorgeous! Moves a little fast, but absolutely beautiful, you MIST read it. Maybe the author will update faster if we can get them a whole bunch of kudos >U<
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11347569/chapters/25393974#main

 

Flip. The fluffy eggs landed in the pan with a light sizzle, and you spun on your heels to expertly slide the now-cooked eggs onto a paper plate for Sans. You were too lazy and unmotivated to wash dishes often, so you found paper plates and plastic cups as an easier alternative to the washable ones. You still had regular silverware are bowls, though. You cracked two more eggs into the hot pan, sprinkled in some salt and pepper, and turned your body to the side so you could look at Sans and Frisk as you cooked. Sure enough, the bag of lazy bones had already started to smother his eggs in ketchup.

"So," you started, looking over at Frisk. "When does your mom want you home? I can walk you over there after breakfast if you want."

"You don't have to do that, Steps. I can just take the kid home with a shortcut, no big deal," Sans drawled. You paused, the spatula you were using for the eggs stopping right before it could flip some of the cooking food over.

"'Steps'?" You asked, raising an eyebrow. Sans choked on his egg-covered ketchup, seemingly just realizing he had spoken that out loud. Once he got under control, he turned his slightly blue face up to you and rubbed the back of his head.

"Uh, yeah. It's a nickname. Ever since I saw you dancing yesterday I've been trying to come up with a good one, but uh it's still a work in progress. Steps is a bad nickname, forget it," he shoveled more food into his skull. You blinked, momentarily distracted by how the eggs disappeared into the empty space behind his teeth. Shaking your head, you pulled yourself back to reality.

"Why not go classic?" You asked, turning back to the eggs. "We can have it be a dance-related nickname AND an almost-anime reference for Alphys to get a kick out of of."

Sans hummed in thought, and you turned your body to the side again so you could cook and talk at the same time. Sans was staring at you. "Well?" He asked. "You gonna tell me what this 'classic' nickname is or you gonna leave me hangin'?" You chuckled, locking eyes with Frisk who had apparently caught on if their devilish smile was any indication. You said it at the same time that Frisk signed it:

"Twinkletoes."

Sans almost snorted out ketchup. You smiled at Frisk, rewarding their Avatar the Last Airbender knowledge with the eggs that you had just finished making them. You set one last serving of eggs on the pan to cook.

"That's fu--" one look at Frisk's face made Sans change the wording he was originally planning to use. "--Freaking perfect," he finished with a chuckle. "Okay then, Twinkletoes. You do not have to walk Frisk home, because I got it under control. Yes, that is much better than Steps." He nodded as if confirming some serious fact. Frisk giggled, and you just smirked.

After serving yourself your own eggs, you turned off the stove and sat down with your two best friends (you could really get used to that. You had best friends that knew about the Resets and didn't think you were crazy!) and the three of you chatted. Eventually, chatting turned into joke-trading.

It was your turn. "Well. I heard this joke about a chocolate bar, but it wasn't that good so I just Snickered."

"Oh my gosh. That joke was so cheesy that it's GRATE."

**"Well aren't you a Bona-fide comedian now, Twinkletoes?"**

"I guess you could say my humor is on Pointe."

"I wouldn't go that far, but I will admit your jokes are Humerus."

Suffice to say, that went on for quite a while, in fact it only stopped when you got a call from Toriel.

Picking up your phone, you realized an hour had already passed since you finished making breakfast for everybody. Embarrassed that you had let so much time slip by, you answered the call without hesitation and hoped the goat mom wasn't too mad at you.

"Hi Toriel! I'm so sorry, I lost track of time and--" her kind laugh cut you off.

"Oh, dear! And here I was, worried I had woken you up!" You could hear the affection and amusement in her voice, and relaxed. You didn't notice your two best friends relaxing with you, they had been just as worried about potential goat-mom wrath. Whenever Toriel was unhappy, _everyone_ was unhappy. It was a mom thing. "Don't worry my child, I was just going to ask that you bring Frisk home before eleven. In fact, I want to surprise Frisk by taking them and the rest of our little group out to the arts festival they are having downtown and I wanted to ask if you would like to come with us."

Oh, wow. The arts festival had already started? Actually, now that you thought about it... the Arts festival was the perfect stage for your next (very overdue) performance as La Venganza. There were dance competitions held for amateur and professional dancers alike at the festival, which meant there would be lots of humans and monsters in the same place as well as judges for all forms of art that were influential in their respective fields. It would be the perfect timing! Luckily you had already planned out the dance you wanted to do, so you would just need another day or two to practice and plan.

"That would be awesome!" You glanced at Frisk, the little mischievous bugger listening to your half of the conversation with intelligent eyes that said that they knew you were hiding something from them. Too bad for Frisk, you weren't going to ruin Toriel's surprise for them. "Today is the first day, right?"

"Yes, it is! And Mettaton has entered one of the dance competitions for professionals, and Alphys has decided to be part of an amateur dance show for-- what did she call it? Cosplay I think? Mettaton competes at noon, and Alphys does her show at one. I would like to get there with plenty of spare time to enjoy the rest of the festival first, though."

The festival was a week long. That gave you plenty of time to plan, practice, and perform before it was over. With the plan forming in your head, you smiled brightly even though Toriel couldn't see it from the other end of the phone call.

"That sounds good to me. In that case, why don't we head over early? We can be at your house in..." you glanced at the clock. It was nine. "Half an hour. Is that okay?"

"Oh, don't rush yourself. But if you want to, then that is perfectly fine with me! Just call me before you head over, so I know you're coming. Thank you so much, my child. I'll see you soon!"

"Not a problem, Toriel. See you soon."

You smiled at Frisk, getting up to deal with your dishes. "Your mom has a surprise for you, Frisk. If Sans is willing to teleport us--" you glanced at Sans for confirmation, and he nodded. Your smile brightened a bit. "Then that gives us enough time to get ready. I need a shower, and don't you have clothes at Sans and Papyrus's apartment for the times you have sleepovers there?" Both of your friends nodded at the same time. "Great! Why don't you guys go get ready-- Sans, if Papyrus is home why don't you ask if he wants to come too? I think he'll like it," you didn't get out much unless you were planning a performance or out with your monster friends, but you were pretty sure that Papyrus would like just about any event that had new stuff for him to see and do. The fact that Mettaton was going to be performing was also a good indicator that the tall skeleton would like the festival.

But Sans had adopted the slightly annoyed expression that came on whenever he was reminded of his brother's boyfriend. You knew from experience that it wasn't that Sans disliked Mettaton, they actually got along just fine most of the time. The problem was that Mettaton was dating Papyrus, and Sans didn't want to be faced with the fact that his brother was an adult. Or not as innocent and oblivious as he seems. And of course there's the feeling that almost every protective older sibling shares; the belief that nobody is good enough to date their younger sibling. You could relate.

"Paps is probably home by now, but he has plans to go watch Mettaton, the hunk of junk is performing in a competition today. Then they are going to spend the day together at the Arts Festival," his perma-grin morphed into a slightly disgusted grimace. You chuckled, but knew that you would do the exact same thing if Mettaton had been dating your sister. Of course, Sans didn't know that you guys were going to the Arts Festival (oh yes, you were going to drag Sans there if you had to! You weren't the only one that had to relax for a change) so you had to do your best to not give it away.

"Aww man," you said with as convincing of a frown as you could manage. "Oh well. Now go, I need to shower!" You managed to push them out, and that allowed you to do everything you needed to get ready.

~~~

Dressed comfortably in your favorite tee and jeans, you just slapped on your second-favorite hat (your favorite didn't match the rest of the outfit, sadly) and your most comfy sneakers before getting anything else you needed and walking out to lock your apartment door. Sans was sitting outside his own apartment, the door slightly ajar. You walked over and sat next to him, your face swimming in curiosity.

"What'cha doin' sitting _outside_ your home?" You asked with an eyebrow raised. Sans looked over at you (he was reading a quantum physics book, which contained a joke book inside much to your chagrin. Until you realized the joke book had a tiny quantum physics book inside of _it_ ).

"Oh? Eh. Frisk is takin' their shower and while normally I'd be laying on the couch waiting for them to finish, Papyrus is zooming around everywhere getting ready for his," Sans got his finger-quotations ready, which made you grin. "As he put it, 'romantic date-day with his favorite sexy robot,' don't chuckle, you're supposed to be on my side!" You were still laughing under your breath. You couldn't help it, you never thought Papyrus would say those words out loud, or that Sans would ever say them either, and hearing Sans say it while referring to Papyrus having said it just made it twice as funny.

"I-I'm sorry," you weren't, "But I didn't even know Papyrus even _knew_ the word 'sexy' existed, let alone _uses_ it," you then realized the rest of what he said and narrowed your eyes in confused curiosity. "And what do you mean I'm supposed to be on your side?" Sans shrugged.

"Y'know!" He moved his hands in some sort of gesture that you didn't think even he knew the meaning of. "You have to be on my side because we're part of the same club!"

"The... same what now?" You were now thoroughly confused, and it showed on your face. Sans laughed, but then continued as if he was serious about the nonsense that was coming from his mouth.

"C'mon, you know! The older-sibling club!" He nudged you. You wanted to laugh, but a wave of irrational melancholy rushed over you. You sunk.

"i'm not an older sibling anymore though."

"That's stupid," you looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes. Sans was completely serious now as he looked at you. He had never, not even once, called anything you said or did stupid unless he wasn't being serious or you had done or said it specifically _because_ of it being stupid. His eye lights were sharp, somehow trapping you so you couldn't look away. "Once an older sibling, always an older sibling. It's something that is ingrained in you once you become one. You hold your sibling for the first time, and it changes you in ways you can't reverse. I see it every time you console Frisk, or catch them when they trip, or get annoyed at them for doing dangerous things," you couldn't tell if you were breathing anymore, focused completely on Sans's words and the utter certainty with which he uttered them to you. "I saw it when you stopped Papyrus from being stabbed all those weeks ago when we first met. I might not have recognized it at the time, but if that wasn't the overprotective instincts of a big sister then I don't know what is."

You sat there in stunned silence for a moment. When you opened you mouth, it was with a slight shy gaze up at him.

"... I'll join the Older Sibling club if I get to be the president."

"What!" Sans was smiling for real again, not his tense serious-smile. If you didn't know any better you would have said that his eye lights looked brighter and softer at the same time, too. "No way, Twinkletoes. I made the club, I am obviously the president. But you can be vice-president."

"I suppose that's acceptable," you said in a very-faked haughty tone. Just then, Frisk came running of cheerfully. They were in a cleaner version of their usual outfit, which didn't surprise you. They must have at least ten of those exact same striped sweaters, they hardly ever wore anything else. Their hair shone with water droplets, making you frown.

"Frisk, did you even towel off your hair before you came out?" They puffed out their cheeks, signing;

 **"No way! It will tangle my hair, and then brushing it will hurt! Besides, it's hot enough outside that my hair will dry off in no time."** you got up and crossed your arms.

"No way, Frisk. Your mom will be pissed at me if I let you walk around with wet hair. Where did you leave the towel? I'm grabbing it. Sans, make sure Frisk doesn't run off," Sans chuckled, slowly standing up.

"That's my vice-president! What did I tell you?" You could feel your face heating up at the realization that, yes, you were being very sisterly right now.

"Yeah, yeah I'm the best vice-president ever. Just grab them, they're trying to slip out," you pointed to where Frisk was already a few steps down the hallway. Sans shrugged and stopped the kid in their tracks with a wave of his hand. Wait- was that..? You narrowed your eyes, watching his face. His right eye was void of light now, but his left had a glowing blue eye socket instead of the usual white. Did that happen every time he used magic? Wait, not important! You hadn't noticed it before, but that hand gesture was decidedly not a normal move one would do if that was all they needed to cast magic. No, that was definitely..!

"It's one thing to hear from you-know-who that your style is hip hop, it is an entirely different thing to /see/ you do a one-armed arm wave," Sans startled, glancing over at you with his single blue eye light. Blue faintly dusted his cheeks.

"J-just get the towel," he murmured, and since seeing him that embarrassed was rare you dropped the subject and ducked into the skelebro's apartment for the first time to fetch the towel and dry off Frisk's hair.

~~~

The Art Festival was loud. And bright. And colorful.

You loved it.

It was you, Sans, Frisk, Toriel, and Undyne. Alphys was practicing in the building behind the stage where she would perform later, and Mettaton was doing the same thing in the building behind the stage for the professionals-only competition. Of course the moment you all had arrived, Sans playfully glared at you.

"So this is why you told me to ask Papyrus if he wanted to come," he shook his head, amused. "My vice-president is betraying me. Plotting to keep my brother's relationship with the oversized calculator going strong. How could she?" His melodrama made you laugh. Frisk was still confused about why Sans was suddenly calling you his vice-president, but you ignored them. Eventually they lost interest and instead ran off to visit nearly every stall they saw and gawk at everything on display.

After a while, you felt Sans tug on your sleeve. You glanced over at him, tilting you head in a silent "what?" Since your mouth was occupied with a mouthful of ice cream from a stall boasting their homemade artisan flavors. Sans had a NiceCream. Or, he used to-- it was gone now, you noticed. That was odd, he had it a moment ago, had he finished it already?

"Twinkletoes, c'mere, look at this stall," he lead you over and blinked. It was a stall filled with laminated pieces of very-well-done fan art. It covered all sorts of fandoms, and was done in expert quality and colors and detail. It left you speechless. Sans picked one of the pieces off the wall, turning to show it to you. It was a Steven Universe piece featuring Stev in the center of a field of roses and corrupted gems in the background. The words "I Will Save Them All," across the top and bottom in bright white lettering. You smiled, knowing Frisk had gotten addicted to the show and that Sans had gotten hooked to it secretly because of the kid. He didn't share his obsession with anyone but you, since you shared his fondness for the show. Then you spotted a section of fan art on a certain anime, and choked on a bit of your ice cream.

"What? What's wrong?" Sans asked, worried. You shook your head, tossing the remains of the ice cream in the trash and wiping off your hands before grabbing one of the pictures that had grabbed your attention and turning to show it to him with wide eyes.

"What? Oh, it's from one of those animes that Alphys has gotten into lately-- Cursed Era, right?" He still looked confused though. "Do you like that show or something?"

Your eyes were almost bugging out of your head. "Alphys watches it?! Sans, remember when I told you I wrote the storylines for two manga and anime series?" Sans rolled his eye lights.

"It wasn't necessarily _you_ that told me, but yeah I remember. Wait..." his eye sockets widened. He pointed to the picture you were holding. "Did you..?" You nodded and he just stared at you in awe for a moment.

"Seeing fan art for an anime that I wrote the story to is..." you stared at the group of pictures drawn for Cursed Era, speechless again. Both of you bought the pictures you had picked out, which left you with the very first piece of fan art for something you had written that you owned now.

Yes, the Arts Festival was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best. Fluff is not my strong point, and it is past 5 am here soooooo... anyway, it took a while butt I finally made it a decent length! Hope you like it. The festival part is going to be long though, so I split it into two chapters. :)


	15. The Festival (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of lovely fluff, now with added sass! 
> 
> Why sass you may ask? Why because Mettaton shows up in this chapter of course!

Just the knowledge that you held fan art in your bag lifted your spirits that morning. It was for you, nobody else but you (kinda). It was a bit surreal still, even if you had known that Cursed Era had grown pretty popular.

"So," Sans started up by your side. You didn't notice how he had been stealing glances at you, and he had no idea how to deal with the faint giddiness that rose in his proverbial stomach every time he saw the shining happiness in your eyes. Sure you were always happy around him and the rest of the group (well, when you weren't talking about super heavy topics anyway) but he had still never seen your eyes sparkle like this. It was more than normal happiness, it was pride and... and what? He couldn't figure out that other spark of emotion in your eyes.

"Yeah?" You asked when he didn't continue his sentence, raising an eyebrow at him. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at you.

"Well, since that anime you wrote the story to seems to be the cream of the crop--"

"That pun doesn't count, I threw away my ice cream already," you refuted with a smirk. He continued as if he hadn't heard you.

"--You should tell me what it's about."

He wanted to know the storyline? You blinked several times, trying to get ahold of your thoughts. You never really spoke about your writing to other people anymore, not even to your mom or Synthia or Max. It would be... nice, to talk about it again.

"Well, the main character is a young woman named Orielle. She's the older child of a set of twins, and her sister is named Elleane. In their world, they're princesses, but..." you continued to walk him through the basic story, but made sure to stop where the anime had left off so far. You wanted him to watch it, your lazy summary of the story couldn't capture it as well as the finished product could.

By the time your summary of the story had ended, you and Sans had met back up with Undyne, Toriel, and Frisk. It was almost time for Mettaton's performance.

You dragged Sans up to the front; you had never seen Mettaton dance solo. Pose a million times back to back, yes, but never actually dance solo. He usually danced with Frisk or Papyrus, or when he managed to rope Alphys into it. And as much as you didn't want to betray Sans as the president of your Older Sibling Club, watching Mettaton and Papyrus dance together was actually a secret guilty pleasure of yours. They were amazing.

Of course, right there in the middle of the front row (looking as if he spent every second of the festival there, no less) was Papyrus. You, Sans and the others managed to snag the seats next to him, but the poor guy had all his focus on the stage even though Mettaton hadn't come out yet and thus he hadn't noticed any of you.

But this was the perfect opportunity.

"Yo,"  
"Yo!"

Two voices of varying volume spoke at the same time, making Papyrus jump and you and Sans look at each other in pleased shock. You had spoken at the same time (guess who was the louder one?), and realized in that moment that the two of you had had the same plan the whole time. Taking advantage of Papyrus to surprise him in a very rare occasion of him having his guard down.

But you saw the darker thought flitting through Sans's eye sockets, and put a hand on his shoulder as you both ignored Papyrus's very loud denunciation of your prank. Sans was just glad that it was you and him that had been the ones to take advantage of Papyrus's lack of attention to his surroundings, and not some less-than-friendly human.

"C'mon, we've dealt with enough depressing stuff yesterday to last us a lifetime," you whispered as softly as you could, not missing how Frisk had obviously heard you and started patting Sans's leg reassuringly. "Sit back, and let's just relax."

"Heh," you felt yourself relaxing to your very core when you saw his soft smile. It was genuine, and you relished it; he didn't give as many genuine smiles as you would have liked. You didn't notice how it was the first time you had been completely relaxed (outside of the middle of a deep sleep) in years. "Well, y'know me. If there's one thing I'll agree to do without any fuss, it's relaxing."

"Good, then we're on the same page," you smirked as the both of you sunk into the uncomfortable metal fold out chairs as if they were the fluffiest seats in history. And you did it at the exact same time, making Papyrus roll his eyes and mutter 'lazy bones,' as Toriel, Frisk, and Undyne chuckled.

You and Sans were so busy pretending that your chairs were comfy that you both missed the sly smirk and knowing glance that Toriel and Undyne shared.

~~~

Your group only had to wait five more minutes before the act that had been performing finished and left the stage, and was replaced by the host of the competition. You felt like the host just didn't quite cut it, but then again you were probably just used to Mettaton's exaggerated exuberance and drama. Other people's "big" personalities just didn't quite feel dramatic enough anymore, especially for hosts. He got points for effort, though.

The man was, appearance wise, the opposite of Mettaton in every way. He was dressed in a sleek charcoal grey suit, and while it was definitely up to the Mettaton standard of quality it was way too far into the "simple luxury" look. The kind that Mettaton would never be caught dead in unless he was at a funeral (though in all honesty, he would probably still choose a gorgeously dramatic hat with a pop of color to wear at a funeral). This host was just grey on grey on grey, as far as his outfit. It was disappointing, no matter how suave it was. He was also very masculine, with a closely trimmed beard climbing up towards his chiseled cheekbones and caressing his sharp jaw. His expensive bland suit also couldn't hide the slight definition of muscles, and the guy's hair was a jet black that was cut short and sleeked back away from his face.

You couldn't help but think that you wish it had been possible for Mettaton to be both a competitor and host for this competition.

"Well Ladies and Gentlemen!" The generic host called out in a booming voice that was trying just a bit too hard at being sultry. "Today's competition has officially reached its climax! Because folks, the next act today is the talented, the charming, the absolutely unique star that nobody can ever ignore-- METTATON!" The man stepped away, and Mettaton made his way to the center of the stage. You found your eyes following the generic host, though. You just felt something was off with him. Sure enough, right before he completely left your sight you caught a scowl on his stereotypically handsome face and a few angry words left his mouth. The only ones you recognized from that distance was Mettaton's name, and the word 'monster'.

Ah. Maybe it hadn't been the suit at all that had originally given you bad vibes from the guy. Maybe you could just instinctually sense bullshit and bigots. The two were obviously wound together in that guy, so no wonder he instantly showed up on your "asshole," radar.

You quickly took your attention off of the ultimately insignificant man, focusing on Mettaton. The star took hold of the mic (a move that would normally never be done in a dance competition. Considering that this competition was solely for established professionals though, all the contestants got a few seconds to introduce themselves and their act before performing) and smiled widely at the audience. You felt yourself relaxing again into the uncomfortable metal chair.

"Hello darlings! For today, I figured I'd step in to give the Monster Equality movement a little boost in moral. As the gorgeous La Venganza hasn't shown up in a little while, I'll take over for her just for today. So watch closely, darlings~!" You blinked at what Mettaton said, not expecting your month-long break in protest dances to get the star's attention in such a way. Maybe you were more overdue for another protest than you thought? Good thing you had the date planned now, anyway.

You didn't miss how Sans sat up a bit next to you at the mention of your alias's name. Some part of you sank a bit, wondering for a brief moment if he really was just staying your friend while he waited to figure out La Venganza's identity. You shook your head when you heard music playing, looking up to see Mettaton already in his starting pose.

You couldn't help a large smile as you listened to the opening notes of the song, instantly recognizing it.

"Oh, of course he would!" You said to yourself with a chuckle. Sans looked over at you curiously.

"Of course he would what?"

"The song," you muttered to him as your head mentally counted down the seconds until the lyrics would start. "The singer of this song is literally named Pink, and this song has just the right amount of sass to fit Mettaton perfectly while also matching the cause."

The first few lyrics showed him that before he could even respond. Mettaton was tapping his right foot perfectly to the beat, rising his hands slowly on either side of him at a steady pace also synced to the beat. The background lyrics started first.  

> Oh woah oh woah
> 
> Oh woah oh woah
> 
> Are we all we are? 
> 
> Are we all we are? 

Right at the end of the second "are we all we are," Mettaton's hands were back to back directly over his head, and he catapulted into fast moves once the sassy lyrics started. 

> Cut to now, holy wow
> 
> When did everything become such a hell of a mess? 

Sans snorted next to you. "Okay, I understand now," he whispered to you. You didn't look away from Mettaton, but could still hear the smirk in Sans's voice. 

Mettaton's solo was a mixture of hip hop and jazz, as if he couldn't really decide which style to settle on. Oddly enough though, it worked. It was more of a lyrical hip hop style though, not the hardcore hip hop that you had a feeling was right up Sans's alley. Because of the beat, there was a lot of snappy arm movements and back arching. As well as a healthy dose of choreographed hair flips and dramatic face-level kicks. The sass and energy was nearly palpable. 

 

 

> Maybe now maybe now
> 
> Could somebody come and take this off my chest? 

The sassy robot bastard actually arched his back while facing the audience, pushing his hands away from his chest in a move that was somehow simultaneously sharp and drawn out. 

 

 

> I know you think it's not your problem
> 
> I know you think that God'll solve them 
> 
> But if your **** is not together
> 
> It'll never be and you and me 
> 
> Plant the seed, open up and let it be

 You felt like it was a very good thing that Mettaton used the censored version of the song. Sure he was required to since this was a competition that even kids were allowed to attend, but you felt like even if he hadn't have been required to use the censored version he still would have. Why? Toriel. You had felt the tension in the air right before the censor, and the very-easy-to-detect relaxation when it came and went without a curse word actually being said. 

 

 

> We are the people that you'll never get the best of
> 
> Not forget the rest of, rest of (oh oh) 
> 
> We've had our fill, we've had enough we've had it up to here 

He actually rose his hand to the level of his head, making three sharp forward motions along with the syllables of the last three lyrics of that chorus, as if actually showing how monsters have had it "up to there," with the bigot's shit. You had to admit, Mettaton had very good taste in protest music. 

 

> Are we all we are? 
> 
> Are we all we are? 
> 
> We are the people that you'll never get the best of
> 
> Not forget the rest of, rest of (Oh oh) 
> 
> Just say it louder to the kids who'll sing it right back 
> 
> Are we all we are?
> 
> Are we all we are? 

Mettaton let some of his jazz style show through more here, doing perfect and very sharp chaine turns followed by a chaine leap. He landed beautifully before spinning right into three pirouettes, landing in a gorgeously slow plea as he glanced to the side. After is very arm-centric hip hop centered moves earlier, his switch to jazz during this instrumental part was amazing. How he managed to blend the two styles so seamlessly into one routine eluded you. He rose his hands, one after the other, sharply above him in a reach towards the sky with his back slightly arched away from the crowd. Along with the sharp beat, he brought down first his left then his right hand to either side of his head, using his elbows to lead the majority of his upper body into two sharp side-to-side swings. 

 

> Are we all we are? 

The robot idol then melted into a smooth contraction that was so deep his fingertips almost touched the stage floor, but his knees weren't bent. 

 

> Are we all we are? 

Then the lyrical hip-hop laced with hints of jazz came back with a vengeance along with the sass in the song. 

 

> Seven seconds, seven seconds 
> 
> That is all the time you got to make your point
> 
> My attention, my attention's like an infant 
> 
> Tryna crawl around this joint

A hip-level kick, roll to the floor, and a very short (was he looking at Papyrus during this part?) crawl on the floor along with the lyrics before Mettaton bounced back up to his toes. Sassy sonofabitch. Oh look, Papyrus was blushing! Oh, and Sans was definitely vibrating in anger next to you. Mettaton had definitely been looking at Papyrus during that crawl move. Sure the move had been suave as hell, but not necessarily good for his health in the long run you supposed. 

Your eyes were glued to the robot star as he finished his dance. You were so familiar with the song that the rest of the lyrics blended into the auditory version of mush as you focused on his movements; you already knew how awesomely suited to protest the song was. 

Thankfully, because all of you needed a rest after that enormously energy packed performance (and also because a certain big brother needed to be calmed down), there was an intermission after Mettaton's dance. The generic host came back out with a blindingly fake smile on that broadcasted all of his probably bleached white teeth. 

"How did everyone like that performance?" He was answered with deafening cheers. "Yeah! Now everyone, we have twenty minutes of intermission before the second half of the competitors come up to perform. We're going to have some non-competing dance professionals come up to commentate on--" the man's eyes fell on where you were sitting in the front row, and you felt as if ice was sliding down your back. You didn't like the sudden spark of interest in his eyes, or how he suddenly straightened his back even more and moved with purpose towards you from his spot on stage. 

"Actually folks!" He spoke to the audience again. You didn't notice the confused look Sans and the others were giving you, as they had also noticed the host's sudden interest in you. "We seem to have a local dance celebrity in the crowd! She hasn't been in the spotlight for over three years, but I think it's about time she come back up for a bit, what do you guys think?" There were more cheers, although this time they were slightly confused along with their excitement. He finally reached the spot on the stage that was right in front of you, and crouched down with a hand held out to help you up onto it next to him. "Come on, why don't you become our first guest commentator?"

You grit your teeth, glaring into the man's dark green eyes. You didn't want to, you had given up the spotlight years ago. You didn't want it anymore. But he knew he had you trapped, despite what the calming pressure of Sans's hand on your shoulder tried to say. Now that the crowd knew what the host was trying to do, they wouldn't let you just back out of it. You had no choice. 

So you plastered on a fake smile and took his hand, letting the host hoist you up into the stage. He let go of your hand the very moment be could get away with it, raising that hand up to bring everyone's attention to you. 

"Everyone, for the first time in three years let's welcome Ebbott City's very own dance protege! She was the very face of the Ebbott dance industry before Mettaton even made it above ground, and she is reason that the dance industry here in Ebbott City was already booming before the barrier broke," you were smiling woodenly as he called out your name and the crowd broke out in unbelieving cheers. You hadn't told anyone the reason behind leaving the spotlight behind, you had just packed your stuff, quit the industry, and seemed to just altogether vanish from the public eye overnight. 

You looked down at your friends, who looked astonished and... a little hurt at the news. You felt sick. They trusted you, and you still hadn't told them very much about yourself. You were a horrible friend, weren't you? 

With dread filling you up from your toes to your head (Frisk didn't look surprised since they had known you from before they fell down Mount Ebbot, but that didn't make you feel any better), you robotically walked over to the chair that was pulled out for you. The host sat in his own chair across from you on the stage. 

"So," the host began. "We have twenty minutes to kill. I don't think the rest of the commentators would be mad if we took it all up, considering this is your first public appearance in so long. I think everybody wants to know, first off, what caused Ebbott's Princess of Dance to leave the industry so suddenly. One day you were performing, and the next we were all told that you quit without any explanation." 

"No," you said firmly. He looked confused, so you leaned forward in your seat to rest your elbows on your knees. There was a microphone set up in front of the chair, so you didn't have to speak too loudly for everyone to be able to hear. "I left for a reason, and that's all I will say. It is personal, and I would like to keep it that way." 

The host seemed caught off guard, but cleared his throat and quickly recovered. "O-oh. Well then! Care to share your opinions on the performances?" 

"Sure," you leaned back and shrugged. "But I only came here to see Mettaton. I saw the performance right before his, but that is the only other dance I saw today," you took pleasure in how the host seemed to deflate. Good! He pulled you up here without your permission and without warning, dragging you away from the relaxed outing you were having with friends. Shame on him! 

"Well," he suddenly perked up as if he thought of something interesting. His piercing gaze settled on you again, his dark green eyes unsettling. "Actually, now that you mention it, you disappeared from the public eye only a few days before the barrier was broken," you tensed. "Did the barrier in any way play a role?" 

"Are you stupid?" You asked bluntly. It was the man's turn to tense, your gaze was cold and your voice dark and laced with warning. "The key word in what you just said is 'before,' and if I quit dancing before the barrier broke how would it have anything to do with the barrier? Or, since I'm not stupid and we can just cut straight to what you actually mean with your thinly veiled question, monsters? I suppose I should answer more plainly though, just in case people decide to twist my words in the future," you took a deep breath, and pinned him with your glare once more. "To be perfectly clear the barrier, and by extension monsters, had no sway whatsoever on my decision to quit my career as a dancer. Now. You wanted me to commentate didn't you?" 

The shocked host could only nod. 

"Okay. I'll commentate," you relaxed into the chair, but it wasn't the same as it was when you had been sitting next to sans. "Jeanette, the dancer that went up before Mettaton, was clearly a very experienced dancer. The problem is that her expertise lies in plain Lyrical, not lyrical hip hop. It is clear to me that she obviously wanted a change of pace for this competition, but even though she likely spent at least a month rehearsing for this performance she still hasn't quite gotten down the movement behind hip hop in general. Her arm movements weren't sharp enough, and she tended to make them too flowy, which is not a common motif in hip hop dances. She also wasn't sharp enough in her pace changes, whenever she had to switch from slow to fast paced movements there was a short lag that took away from the overall effect of the routine," you easily shot out everything you had noticed about that dance, despite not having watched it very closely. Your tone was brisk, professional. You just wanted to get off this stage already. 

"As for Mettaton, he obviously stuck to his own expertise and it paid off extremely well for him. I for one have never seen any dancer, human or monster, pull off such a seamless meld of lyrical hip hop and jazz in one routine. His pace changes nearly gave me whiplash, but in the best of ways. On that stage today was not the same Mettaton you see at his concerts, even if his personality was just as tangible as always," that earned you a chuckle from the crowd. "No, on that stage today was a more personal side to Mettaton than he usually shows at his concerts, if I'm not mistaken. He didn't dance for himself, he didn't even dance for the audience. Today, he truly and completely danced for the cause of monster rights. I might not know why La Venganza hasn't performed in nearly a month, but I do know that she should be proud of the performance Mettaton gave today. She probably is. He stood up here and filled in her shoes very well. If that's all now, I'd like to go back to enjoying my day out with my friends," you couldn't help being snappy with this host. You didn't like him. 

Still a bit stunned at your very brisk and sudden commentary, the man quickly pulled you up and led you back to your seat before introducing the commentators that were actually scheduled to speak during the intermission. 

You couldn't look Sans in the eye socket. You were sagging in your seat, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

"Looks like we found out something new about you, huh?" He mused out loud. His relaxed (decidedly NOT angry) tone made you look up. Toriel and Undyne were closer, Toriel sitting just on the other side of Sans now with Frisk on her lap and Undyne crouched on the floor in front of them. All of their eyes were on you, even Papyrus was gazing at you encouragingly from the other side of you. 

"You aren't mad I didn't tell you earlier?" You asked, confused. "I mean, we've been friends for more than a month now. I should have..." 

"No, you didn't need to," Toriel assured you gently. "Honestly, I can relate," you looked up at her curiously. Then something you didn't think could happen did; Toriel blushed a bit in embarrassment. "Back when we were underground, shortly after some... events... happened, I left Asgore and retreated to a nearly abandoned section of the unground without telling anybody. I didn't come out until Frisk was about to break the barrier," the motherly goat ruffled Frisk's hair as she voiced the memory. "I surely didn't talk about my reasoning for quite some time after that." 

"Yeah punk," Undyne said, smiling reassuringly in her own sharp toothed way at you. "We get it. It's not like it changes what we think of you; I don't know if you've noticed, but all of us are pretty famous in the dance industry too. And politics. We're pretty high profile all around actually," the buff fish rubbed the back of her neck, letting out a nervous huff of laughter. 

"Although I Do Wish I Had Known Before Hand That I Dance With A Famous Dancing Human On A Regular Basis, I Also Cannot Fault You For Not Telling Us About Your Previous Fame," Papyrus was using his 'quiet' voice so that he didn't distract too much from what was going on onstage. 

"Yeah bud," Sans shrugged. "No biggie," even though Sans said this though, Papyrus glared down at his brother. 

"Sans," Papyrus said dangerously. "That Reminds Me. You Have Been Keeping A Similar Secret, Haven't You?" 

"What?" You looked over at your best friend, raising your eyebrows. "No way, Sans the skeleton is keeping secrets?" You said sarcastically. The guy was like the metaphorical hidden treasure trove of secrets. Of course, you didn't know he thought of you the same way. "I'm hurt. Devastated. What is it?" 

Sans looked sheepish. "Ah, nothing. I'll tell you later, 'kay? Let's just go, Papyrus why don't you go back and wait with Mettaton for the results at the end of the competition? The rest of us can go and enjoy come more of the festival before Alphys's performance." 

You let it slide. After all, you were still keeping secrets anyway. No logical reason to press Sans into telling you all of his. So, mood sufficiently lightened again, you watched Papyrus join Mettaton backstage before leaving to see what else the Arts Festival had to offer you all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omfg. Do you guys have any idea how hard this chapter was to write? I don't know WHY, it shouldn't have been that bad! But it was. Oh my god. I spent two days deciding what song Mettaton was going to dance to, and another two or three hours researching jazz and hip hop in order to figure out how he would dance to to. And another solid hour actually CHOREOGRAPHING Mettaton's dance in my room! That is before I even started writing his dance scene, and by the time I was halfway through I was so burnt out that I just wrote off the rest of the dance ad happening in a blur. I apologize, but that scene alone took way more effort than it should have. Ugh >.<' AND, I am apparently making this into a three- parter rather than a two parter. Well. 
> 
> How was your day? No seriously, comment below because I'm curious and need distraction from how stupidly hard this chapter was for me.


	16. The Festival (Part 3) and BONUS SCENE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bonus scene is still canon, and is extra story that is very plot-relevant. Essentially it is just an extra chapter slapped on to make this chapter longer for you. 
> 
> Extra long chapter courtesy of my guilt for being gone so long. I don’t have any excuses to give D: just forgive me please!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is the Jubyphonic English cover of Echo.

“Gah! Sans you _monster_!” You were joking of course, so the word didn’t come out mean. That didn’t mean you necessarily meant it to come out, though. You turned red at your major slip of the tongue, suddenly angry at yourself. You literally held protest dances in order to stop discrimination, and there you go using the word monster derogatori—

“Well, how nice of you to notice. For a second, I was wondering if you thought I was a meteor.”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, ignoring the cotton candy still stuck on your nose and cheek from when he smashed the treat into your face a minute earlier. He was still grinning, not mad at your slip of tongue. In fact, he seemed happier than usual— why? His grin only got wider, and even before he spoke you realized what you had walked into. “Oh Sans, n—“

“Because you’ve been treating me like a _Star_ this whole time, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you thought I was _out of this world_. But the cotton candy must have brought you back _down to earth_ , because you obviously remembered I’m just your best monster friend _in the world._ ”

You gaped at him, then rubbed your wrist across your face to wipe off the sugary remains of the cotton candy. Just you and Sans were sitting down at a table. The group had decided to split up to see what most interested them before you all would gather again to see Alphys’s performance. You and Sans had been eating cotton candy made at a stall that would shape the fluffy snack like elaborate cones of ice cream while chatting about random things. You had even opened up a bit and started telling Sans a little about your old dancing career when he suddenly switched to talking about his favorite pranks. Two minutes into the discussion, he randomly leaned over and bounced your hand so that your cotton candy went all over your face.

And now the pun war was back. He initiated this battle, so you had no choice but to join in.

“Geez. That was four in a row,” you couldn’t help but shake your head, impressed. He shrugged, giving you an extended wink.

“What can I say, I’m the best.”

“Woah mister, maybe you’re more like a human than you think. We have skeletons, and you’re rather _full of yourself,_ ” Sans blinked slowly, his arms falling out of their shrugging position.

“... Okay, that was good.”

You mock-bowed to him in your seat. The two of you looked at each other seriously for a moment before you both lost the inner struggle against your amusement and broke into laughter.

“But,” Sans said, raising one phalange in protest even as he chuckled. “It doesn’t qualify as a pun. It is definitely clever wordplay, but I don’t think it counts in our pun war.”

“... I have only one thing to say to that.”

He raised a brow bone.

“Are you from Uranus? ‘Cause you stink.”

He snorted, then brought one bony hand to cover his mouth as he broke down into guffaws that made you smile dumbly. You were proud of yourself for that one. He shook his head, getting himself under control.

“Okay. That one counts,” you met his eye lights for a long moment, and silence stretched. Were they brighter than usual? It occurred to you that the two of you didn’t have very many lighthearted moments to yourself. And this— being at an art fair, eating cotton candy and chatting— could be considered a date.

That thought made something cold wind up in your chest. It was a bittersweet thing; you really liked Sans. You did. And you would love the chance to have a deeper relationship with him, but at the same time… no. You had too many secrets still, too many regrets and open emotional wounds. Romance would just be like pouring a cup of lemon juice and salt into a stab wound. It might distract from the wound itself, but it would make the pain so much worse at the same time. But maybe… maybe the illusion would be a good break from reality. After all, there was no guarantee that Sans felt the same for you, so romance might not even be a possibility with him. But daydreaming was fine. It was in your head, and he never had to know.

So you pushed the pessimistic thoughts away and decided to just enjoy the moment. If nothing else, Sans could always continue to be your best friend. You’d do your best to assure that that, at least, didn’t change.

“So,” you broke the silence between you and your best friend— it had only lasted five seconds anyway despite the complex thoughts you had managed to go through during that time frame. “That means I’m one point closer to you, then,” you smirked at him smugly. It took a moment, but Sans snapped out of his own thoughts and his eyes dimmed slightly back to their normal intensity. He snorted.

“Sure, like that one point brings you that much closer to beating me anyway. I’m the pun master, don’t forget it.”

“I’ll take that title from you one day,” you retorted. Sans finished off his cotton candy (seriously, how did NONE get stuck on his teeth?) and tossed the paper cone into the trash can nearby.

“Sure you will,” he said in his most patronizing tone, making you give him a flat look. He chuckled, then leaned back comfortably in his chair. “So. Mettaton’s Dance.”

Here it comes. You’d been avoiding this talk, because you knew it would eventually lead to taking about La Venganza. Honestly, you wanted to avoid talking about yourself (however secretly you did it) in case you slipped up. Besides, the awe Sans usually showed when your alter ego came up in a discussion was a little disconcerting. You were a human, not anything magical. Technically speaking, every monster alive was quite literally much more magical than you would ever be.

“What about it?” You replied as casually as possible, raising an eyebrow. “I am not commenting on the slightly provocative gesture he sent Papyrus. I am remaining strictly neutral there.”

Sans deflated slightly, giving you a mock-reproachful pout. “But you saw it, too! He crawled in Papyrus’s general direction!” He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially: “This is why he’s a bad influence on him. What if Papyrus copies that? He’s incredibly impressionable!” It was your turn to snort.

“Sans. Whether you want to accept it or not, Papyrus is an adult. A childish, pure, innocent adult, but still an adult. He probably knows a lot more than any of us realize, actually. He is quite an untraditional genius, now that I think about it. If you pay close enough attention, you’ll realize that he purposely hides some of the subtle things he does behind his naturally bold personality— so we don’t notice them unless we pay close attention, because we expect him to be blunt and the subtle stuff therefore passes us by.”

Sans didn’t look very believing of you.

“When has he ever been so conniving? I don’t think Papyrus knows that people can hide things like that.”

You gave him your best flat look. “No, you are well aware of it actually! You just don’t acknowledge it because you want to continue to see him as flawlessly pure. And yes, he is still a million times more pure than most humans,” you admitted, “but he is also mature and intelligent. Last week, when we were in the car on our way to the park? There was a news report over the radio of a monster dusting under investigation just a block south of the park. Frisk started heading in the direction when they saw flashing lights, but that was when Papyrus suddenly yelled about being the best at jumping jacks and started a competition between him, Frisk, and Undyne. He positioned both of them for the competition, remember? He deliberately put their backs to the direction the investigation was in, and nobody thought anything of it because it’s normal for him to act that way.”

Sans was silent for a long moment. He suddenly sighed. “You’re right. He does things like that a lot, now that I think about it. I just always shrug them off because I don’t want him to grow up. Growing up means seeing ugly things, it means…” he didn’t have to finish, you both knew what he meant. You leaned over the table and put a hand on his skull, pretending to ruffle his nonexistent hair.

“Stop with the gloomy business, mister. Even if Papyrus sees bad things, he’s the kind of person that will never stop being positive. He’ll grow and his heart will just get even more passionate about kindness and the need to be positive and brave. He won’t get dimmer like most of us humans do.”

“You’re not dim,” he suddenly spoke up, looking into your eyes again. His eye lights were unusually bright again, like before. You blinked, shocked by his sudden input. “You’re not. You— your soul— it shines. It’s hurt, obviously. You can’t get rid of the cracks and scars. But it still shines with your Integrity. And it sparkles.”

“Sparkles?”

Sans nodded. “Remember what I told you a long time ago, about the magenta shards that show in your soul? They sparkle now, they’re brighter than I’ve ever seen them. Something must have happened over the past month to bring your passion back.”

You blinked at him, and decided to look away as you felt a blush creeping up onto your face. That was when your eyes caught the clock and you shot up from your seat. “Shit, Alphys’s performance is in ten minutes! If we don’t hurry we won’t get a seat, come on!” You grabbed Sans’s wrist bones and dragged him as fast as you could to the stage Alphys would be dancing at. You were halfway there when Sans snapped out of his situational whiplash and chuckled.

“D’dya forget I can ‘port us over?”

“...”

Another chuckle. “You did.”

“Shut up, we ran this far we might as well finish running over. You need the exercise anyway.”

“Pft, whatever. I am clearly the very picture of skeletal fitness.”

“Don’t start confusing yourself with Papyrus, now,” you teased back with a smile.

The two of you slowed down to a walk naturally, and actually tried to prolong the time it took to arrive at the stage that was now in eyeshot.

“I hope she’s okay,” Sans had spoken so softly you almost hadn’t heard him over the noise of the fair. You blinked, looking back at him.

“Who?”

“La Venganza. She has done at least one performance a month for the entirety of last year, this is the first time she’s gone so long without showing up. Even Toriel is scheduled for a talk show tomorrow to talk about her absence.”

This was news to you. “Really? I didn’t realize her protests were that big now. I knew more people had been talking, but I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah,” Sans nodded. “Ever since _Trail of Dust,_ the whole political world has been talking about her and paying attention. Everyone who is anyone in the Monster Equality Movement is talking about why she hasn’t shown up, keeping an eye on her. If she disappears for much longer the movement will take a serious hit. She has too many fans that will lose faith in the movement without her.”

That made you feel bad. Even as you and Sans walked over and took your seats in front of the stage where Alphys was to perform soon, you felt guilt’s familiar presence start to sit in your gut. But you banished it, setting your mouth firmly as determination filled you. No. You would not bow to guilt, because it was entirely your responsibility to solve this problem and nobody could do to for you.

The shards of passion in your soul itched closer together again, but the shiver was too slight for Sans or yourself to feel it.

“She’ll be back,” you whispered as the announcer (in a Cursed Era cosplay that made you smile, no less) came out to announce Alphys’s dance. Sans looked over at you, raising a brow bone. You turned and when you looked at him, he could see the passion in your eyes. It stunned him for a moment. “La Venganza will be back before you know it, just you watch. Don’t you think this very Festival makes the perfect stage?”

Both of your attention was pulled away from the discussion when Alphys came out in a black wig with a long braid curled around the head, and the orange dress of your main character from the Cursed Era anime. Oh Stars, you thought with a blush. It seemed like everything in this timeline was trying to cheer you up today. This was just a performance line up, not a competition, so once again everyone was allowed a few seconds to talk on the mic before the dance.

“H-hi,” Alphys stuttered into the microphone.

“YEAH! That’s my GIRLFRIEND! Rock it Alphys!” Undyne has stood on top of her chair to yell that, and she was in the front row. It caused both you and Sans to chuckle, even as Toriel and Frisk yanked her back down and shushed her. Alphys laughed before continuing.

“I-I’m a huge fan of Cursed E-Era, and I thought this song fit perfectly with Orielle’s overall attitude. I hope you guys l-like it!”

She handed the microphone off, and stood with her hands to either side of her. When the music started, she started by moving her arms— left arm down and right arm up— and then back again like a broken clock. You chuckled.

“Trust Alphys to choose a really popular song.”

 

> The clock stopped ticking forever ago.  
>  How long have I been up?  
>  I don't know.  
>  I can't get a grip, but I can't let go  
>  There wasn't anything to hold on to though.

Alphys was actually confident once she really got into a dance, and I could tell that she really liked this one because only her first few steps were nervous before she got into the rhythm. She started by “ticking” her arms until her right was straight up and her left strait down, then let them flow in a circle until they gripped her head and shook it side to side once on the line “I don’t know,” before she turned her body to the side, taking a step towards the audience and reaching out towards them with one hand dramatically before pulling back and turning back to the front. She brought the hand that had reached out to the audience, looking up as she swung that arm in an arc over her head as if she was reaching for something to grab.

 

> Why can't I see?  
>  Why can't I see?  
>  All the colors that you see?  
>  Please, can I be,  
>  Please can I be,  
>  Colorful and free?

  
The first two lines had Alphys covering first one eye, then the other as her legs continued to easily move up and down to the beat, lifting just a little bit off the ground each time. Then she did a little jump, landing with her legs spread out and her hands moving from the middle of her body and then outwards, left hand before the right. Then she brought her arms in again, right before left this time, in an almost boxing position with her forearms straight up and partially covering her face before she jumped out of that pose again and into a simple step pattern.

 

> What the hell's going on?!  
>  Can someone tell me please?  
>  Why I'm switching faster than the channels on TV?  
>  I'm black, then I'm white,  
>  No!  
>  Something isn't right!  
>  My enemy's invisible, I don’t know how to fight!
> 
> The trembling fear is more than I can take,  
>  When I'm up against  
>  The echo in the mirror!  
>  Echo!

The main difference between K-pop, J-pop, and American urban hip hop is that the first two styles are more literal most of the time, particularly in the styles that Alphys is best at. They physically represent the lyrics and beat rather than being an interpretation. Alphys carried that out very well, coming up with a sharp yet somehow also cute dance sequence for the chorus. She repeated that chorus (which is another difference between the Asian Pop and American Pop styles; American Pop no longer has motif sequences very often) bringing in new moves only with new lines until the song ended.

You clapped, but were slightly conflicted. Her dance was amazing, but the song… was a perfect fit for the main character of your novel, who you had actually modeled after yourself a little.

“Huh,” Sans said beside you. “Does Orielle Really come off as such a… conflicted character?” He asked, commenting on how the song portrayed Orielle since Alphys said it fit the character’s attitude. You sighed.

“Actually, yes. I purposely didn’t tell you much about Orielle specifically because she is the single most controversial character, even though she is the main protagonist. Half of the fan base believes she is the greatest hero of the whole story, the other half believes she is actually the villain. She hops from her bright personality to her dark one so often that she has forgotten which one is really her.”

Sans hummed in thought, but another voice spoke up before he could respond.

“Sounds like my kinda gal,” you flinched at the voice before looking over to see Frisk sitting next to you. They signed an apology, telling you how Chara was begging them to be allowed to speak, and how they obviously couldn’t do that around a Toriel so they snuck away.

“It’s fine Frisk,” honestly, you weren’t angry at Chara anymore. You didn’t like them, but your nightmare and the reminders of your own inspiration behind your main character reminded you that you really had no room to judge the little demon child. Didn’t mean you had to be happy about it though.

But Sans obviously wasn’t of the same mindset. He was tense beside you, so you places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Orielle is a character that shows, though, that even a murderer deserves to be understood sometimes, that there is not really such a thing as pure evil,” you spoke as if you were talking about your character as you looked into Sans’ eyes, but you both knew that that wasn’t actually what you were talking about. He sighed in annoyance, but sunk into his uncomfortable chair with a nod. You turned to Chara, who was suddenly speechless. You could feel their shock even though they were inside of Frisk and completely hidden from your sight.

“So, Chara. You and I should schedule some time to just talk, alright? I want to understand. You aren’t pure evil, either. So even if forgiveness might not be in the offer here, I want to at least understand. Sound good?”

There wasn’t a verbal answer, but Frisk signed to you that Chara agreed. You took their word for it and stood up.

“Come on, lazybones. Let’s go walk Frisk back to Toriel so we can enjoy the festival some more before we have to go home.”

“Sounds good.”

——  
The next day, you found yourself in the “family and friends,” section of the audience in the studio where the talk show Sans had mentioned was taking place. You had asked Toriel if you could come watch her interview, and she agreed. Apparently she had needed someone to watch Frisk anyway, and was relieved that she wouldn’t have to ask Asgore after all. So now you were in the audience, with Frisk sitting to your left, as the show was about to begin.

“Welcome to Straight Talk! I’m your host, Honesty Morgan,” yes, her first name was actually Honesty. She didn’t even change it, her parents had actually named her that. It made a great name for a talk show host, though, you had to admit. Very catchy. “Today we have a special guest as we once again broach the topic of Monster Rights and Monster Equality. Everyone welcome to the stage the former Queen of Monsters, Toriel Dreemurr!”

There were the customary cheers, but you noticed that the cheers were not as loud as they usually were. Upon inspection, you noticed a lot of people remaining quiet and watching on with intense looks on their faces. You frowned, hoping nothing would go wrong today.

Toriel has already walked out while you were inspecting the crowd, and you looked back up just as she sat down on the extra-large plush sofa that you think they bought specifically to cater to her size. The gentle goat mom smiled kindly at the host.

“Hello, Honesty. It is very nice to be here, I really must thank you again for having me.”

Honesty flapped one slightly tanned hand, waving off her thanks with a smile. “Not a problem at all, Miss Dreemurr! You are one of my favorite guests. This is your third time on my show already, and I don’t think it will be the last if I have anything to say about it!”

You liked this woman already. Then again, you always kinda liked Honesty Morgan even if you hardly ever watched talk shows. She and Toriel bantered cheerily like that for another minute or two before they got down to business.

“So, Toriel,” Toriel has insisted that Honesty call her by her first name, “let’s talk about the real issue now. For the last year, the Monster Equality Movement has made significant strides. Monsters are now legally able to own property, and have a tentative style of citizenship. Obviously the next move is for full citizenship, which I believe is being worked on as we speak?”

“Yes, that is right,” Toriel was also serious now, her mouth firm even as her gaze remained kind. “We have a formal request for full citizenship that is being voted over. We tried getting it a year after we first surfaced, but back then Monsters were still so new and segregated that it didn’t even make it to discussion in the government. But now, and in large part due to the efforts of Monster sympathetic protesters such as La Venganza, we believe we may finally have a shot at our next big step towards equality.”

“I hope so. Let’s go ahead and play some clips from some of La Venganza’s most popular dances in the background— there we go,” she said as clips flickered to life on the screen in the background between Honesty and Toriel. You clenched your hands, indescribably giddy and nervous seeing clips of yourself up there. Sure, you were in a mask and face paint and all defining features were covered. Still, the irrational half of your brain whispered that somebody was going to figure it out, that somebody would know you were La Venganza… even if it was impossible for them to be able to tell.

“Okay, now that that’s up. Why don’t you share your thoughts on La Venganza, Toriel? We’ve mentioned her a little bit the other times you were here, but we’ve never been able to have a real discussion about her.”

“As I have said before, I believe La Venganza is a spark. The spark that the Monster Equality Movement desperately needs in order for it to grow into the fire it needs to be to make a difference. She is a passionate person whose dedication to the cause can be seen as clear as day in her every dance, and you can tell that she weaves meaning and emotion into every step. She can empathize with us, and every Monster to ever see one of her dances live has attested to that fact. Hey could literally feel the empathy, the understanding, flowing from her Soul as she performed. That is not an easy feat,” Toriel reached forward to pick up the cup of tea that Honesty had set out for her, taking a sip. She looked at it with a strange glint in her eye, setting the cup down again before continuing.

“While we rate greatly appreciative of everything La Venganza does to help our movement, we also know that such deep understanding of our pain does not come without first hand suffering. Whether she is friends with monsters who have been hurt, or if she has been hurt in a similar way to us in the past, it is clear that she is not without her own agonizing scars. I would once again like to reach out to La Venganza, should she be watching, to come to myself, or even Asgore or one of our mutual friends. Pain is best healed in company, and we would greatly benefit from a friend. But more than that, we want to offer friendship and healing to one of the few humans who has taken initiative to support us, just as we offer you our friendship, Honesty. We would like to show both of you our utmost gratitude for everything you have done.”

Honesty was blushing, and let out a little laugh to distract from how flattered she obviously was. “Well, that is not exactly an offer I can refuse, Miss Dreemurr! I would be delighted to be considered your friend,” the two ladies shared a soft look before continuing their discussion. “Now then. Do you have any ideas as to why La Venganza has been missing from her stage for so long?”

Toriel hummed in thought for a second. “I don’t know. I hope that she is not hurt, and that nobody close to her has been hurt or ill lately. It is very possible for either of those scenarios to be what has taken over her attention. However, I do not feel that either of those are the case. Simply my intuition, I suppose. But no matter what the reason is, the Monster Equality Movement needs her back. I fear she doesn’t know the sway she truly has on the human backing in the movement, and I fear it might fall apart if she does not return.” Toriel smoothed her dress, letting her lips curl into a knowing smile. “However, my instincts also say that she is coming back soon. I have been around for quite a while, Honesty. After several hundred years as Queen of an entire race, you develop the skill of being able to sense changes before they occur. When a ripple will appear, when that ripple will turn into a wave, when that wave is about to rouse a storm, and so on. So far La Venganza’s dances have went from ripple, to wave, to storm, and now I sense the storm is going to pick up,” you were entranced by the sudden spark in Toriel’s eyes.

“I don’t know how I know, Honesty, but I honestly feel like La Venganza is going to be a part of something even bigger than any of her previous dances, and it is going to happen very soon.”

You bit your lip, zoning out most of the rest of the interview. Toriel has a much higher view of your alter ego than you had expected. She had so much faith in you, you couldn’t let her down now. You had no idea what this big thing was going to be that Toriel predicted you would be a part of, but you were determined to make sure that whatever it was had a good outcome for Monsters. You had to.

——

After the interview, you were in the van that Toriel drove as she took you and Frisk back to their house. You were going to stay there for a short visit before heading home, yourself. Toriel waited until Frisk inevitably fell asleep in the back seat before she spoke up, her voice soft.

“Dear,” she always addressed you like that, but her tone got your attention nonetheless.

“Yes?” You asked, having never heard Toriel sound so worried and anxious before. Toriel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“I sure do hope La Venganza returns soon, even if it is a selfish hope. Things are getting worse again without her performances.”

“What do you mean?” You hadn’t noticed any difference, but Toriel was starting to worry you.

“Let’s be glad that monster bodies dissolve food into magic to absorb it, and therefore cannot be affected by physical issues in human food. Because someone in the studio put poison in my tea today.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Toriel definitely drank that entire cup of tea just to piss off whoever poisoned it. Whoever said that Toriel is too nice for any sort of payback is wrong. She just does it subtly ;)


	17. Pain and Gain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy! I’m back! 
> 
> Forgive me for my several month absence from before yet? No? Oh. Sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE WARNINGS. Archive warnings updated. THIS WHOLE CHAPTER IS A TRIGGER WARNING.

Here we go. You spent all week preparing for this. You were determined that this dance would be the best one yet. You gathered up your dance bag, taking a peek inside. It was a normal gym bag, the same one you used to carry your practice clothes, shoes, song notebook, and clipboards for your job at the studio. Except today it was heavier, the weight of your color guard rifle and sabre carefully wrapped in your practice clothes dragging a little at the bag. You covered them with your notebook, clipboards, and a pair of simple black ballet flats.

You were dressed in just black spandex shorts and a plain black short sleeve shirt with some worn tennis shoes, and were locking your apartment door just as you felt two people appear behind you. You blinked, turning around and shoving your keys into your bag lazily as you took in the presence of Sans and Frisk. You had hung out a lot with them over the past four days since the talk show. Apparently they figured that teleporting over to your apartment once a day was a new tradition.

“Hey guys,” you greeted as you zipped up your bag and readjusted it on your shoulder.

“Yo, twinkletoes,” Sans greeted back, his eyelights taking in your outfit and accessory before one of his brow ones quirked up in curiosity. “Goin’ somewhere? All of us have an hour reserved at the studio later if you wanna join in. I didn’t know you were planning to go over early today.”

“I’m not,” you said, giving Frisk the customary daily hair-rustle. “I’m visiting my mom again— yes Frisk, my adoptive mom. She likes seeing me dance every now and then, says she likes walking down memory lane,” you explained. It was even the truth. Well, partially. Sans’ smile straightened out a little.

“Well be careful bud, okay? Things have been tense lately and you don’t exactly keep it a secret that you hang out with monsters all the time, y’know? And to make matters worse, apparently a lot of people had the same idea you did. That La Venganza would show during the festival. But it’s the festival’s last day, and she’s a no-show,” he shifted on his feet.

You huffed. “That’s nothing to get upset about, it’s not over ‘till it’s over. I’ll see you later, Sans. You too, squirt,” you ruffled Frisk’s hair one more time before making your escape. Sure enough, you could feel the tense air the moment you stepped outside. The feel of eyes watching you was unmistakable. Yes, this was the exact type of environment that La Venganza was created to dispel.

_So let’s remind everyone about that, shall we?_

You got to the festival at noon, and glanced out at the crowd from the tinted window of your van. Nobody noticed the blank van in the parking lot, it blended in with all the other trucks and vans being prepared to pack up the stages, stalls, equipment and everything that wasn’t sold. There was a good crowd out there, hoping to enjoy the last day of the fair as much as possible before it packed up. You felt an almost predatory grin spread over your lips as you looked on. You were so ready for your big comeback that you felt giddier than ever.

You motioned to Synthia, already completely in her Anonymous costume, and she gathered up the floor and slid open the side of the van. You rolled your shoulders, gathering the signs and your equipment up in your two arms. Your mental clock ticked in your head, you would have a thinner amount of performance time than ever today. The atmosphere had been just as tense around the time of your first performance, but this time you didn’t have the advantage of people being confused to give you more time. You inspected your face paint and mask one last time in a handheld mirror before letting out a sigh.

“Now.”

You and Synthia leaped out of the van, taking off at top speed the very moment your feet hit the ground. The two of you expertly wove through the crowd until you reached the first stage, and promptly set up the floor in front of it. That in and of itself was a statement; La Venganza did not see herself as being above anybody. She was on the same level as everyone else.

All the chairs had already been packed up, so you had plenty of space. Set up took exactly sixty-four seconds. Then you set your rifle and sabre down, and took your starting pose as Anonymous plugged her phone into a speaker you both had made sure was still fully set up, and the music started.

Your costume today was made by a family friend, a seamstress. It looked like a black unitard, with skin-colored cloth covering all your exposed skin besides your hands below the wrist and your face above your neck. On the unitard were the words, in blood red, “It’s a Nightmare”

The two changing songs were:   
“The Dance is titled Nightmare End, so let this nightmare of inequality end!” and   
“Song is Young Blood by Bea Miller”

> We were making history  
> Breaking rules and breaking free  
> Questioning the writing on the wall

  
You started with dance to match the slow rhythm at the start, dragging your foot in an arc in perfect tendue in front of you as you arched your back away from the quickly gathering crowd. At the second line, you quickly moved so that your pointed foot kicked in a high arc, following it up with a smooth turn as if you were kicking and twisting yourself out of restricting bonds. As your turn ended, you arched your back until it was almost parallel with the ground, moving your hand to the side as if you were reading writing on the wall and gently letting your fingers glide over the words.

> Comin' from the underground  
> Laughing as we're falling down  
> Soaking in the glory of it all

You then rose up out of your bend, a smile breaking over your face as you  
Rolled to the ground and landed on your back, raising your back slightly off and back onto the ground as your hands combed through the top of the braided blonde wig with thick blue highlights.

> But in dark times when we close our eyes  
> It's a nightmare, it's a nightmare  
> When the sun don't shine we lose our minds  
> But I swear, we can get there

You rolled up into a sitting position, your smile falling away and hands rising to cover your eyes as you rolled backwards over your shoulder, landing on your stomach to reach out as if calling for help. You then slammed that hand on the ground, one leg pulling itself over the other to roll you over and push you back onto your feet, now with your rifle in hand. As if you didn’t know you were holding it yet, you put your hands on either side of your head and swung it as if you were crazy, but on the last line before the chorus you straightened, moving your rifle so it was over your heart before doing two right pirouettes, and landing right in time to the next lyrics and your next moves.

> We've got young blood  
> Can't destroy us  
> We make our own luck in this world  
> We've got young blood  
> No one chose us  
> We make our own love in this world

_Defiance, strength. Portray it through every movement!_ You tossed your rifle up with almost all your strength, your gaze directed upward even as you did pirouettes under it. Five spins (of both you and your rifle) later, and you caught it soundly in your grip. You didn’t waste a second though, quickly moving to your next steps.

> Someday we could run away  
> See it all before the pictures fade  
> And bottle up the feeling in a jar  
> Pass around to all our friends  
> We could breathe it in all again  
> Huddled in the backseat of the car

On “bottle up,” you had just landed a leap and contraction, moving to so a half-toss with your rifle. When you caught it, you made a show of twisting your hand over the top of the rifle as if you were twisting a lid on a jar, and tossed it to Anonymous. She caught it, sliding in to join the dance for the very first time. She wasn’t a dancer though, and was stuck doing simple moves that you helped her learn. She circled around you as you spun and dipped, ending the short duet when she passed the rifle back to you. Just as she went to the edge of the floor again, you both contracted in and out as if taking a deep breath and sighing it out.

You continued to dance, switching from your rifle to a short moment of pure dance again before picking up your Sabre. After three more groups of lyrics, the chorus started again.

We've got young blood

  
The song was coming to a close. Only one more repeat of the chorus after this and it would be over.

Can't destroy u—

You felt yourself trip before you even registered the sound of the gunshot. You hadn’t tripped during a public performance since you were still a little ballerina being showed off like a prized possession. What could have..?

Oh. Oh, there was blood around you. You rolled onto your back, but found that there was just too much pain for you to sit up. You couldn’t even lift your head to see where the wound was, but after a moment you didn’t need to. You could feel the wound in your chest, far too close to your heart. And what was that cracking sound?

— — —

Your eyes snapped open, your chest heaving as you clutched at the sheets of your bed. Oh, you hated dying. You hated dying so much. Frisk must have Loaded to save you. But what did they think they could do?

You heard a familiar deep voice calling your name, panicked, from your living room. You bolted out of bed, shoving your stuff into your bag and opening your window. Who knew how much time had passed after your death before Frisk had Loaded? What if enough time had passed for them to ID you, and Sans knew your secret now?

No. No no no no no! He’d insist on coming to every performance. Someone would notice. He would be in **D A N G E R.** So much danger!

You were climbing down a pipe outside your window before your mind even registered what you were doing. You heard your bedroom door slam open, but you were already smashing your car window and driving off by the time Sans teleported into the alley under your bedroom window. You kept a spare key hidden inside your car for these situations. You knew he couldn’t teleport into moving objects like cars, so you floored it without so much as making eye contact with him.

Your mother was the first to point out that you were still in your pajamas. You ignored her; talking to anyone right after a load was useless. You knew everything they’d say, so you didn’t bother saying anything. You went through preparations like a robot, going through all the same movements as before.

This time, when you were prepped to run out with Synthia, you were not as filled with giddiness as you were with dread.

You. Hated. Dying.

You went through the dance same as before, this time keeping an eye out for the shooter. You ended a pirouette, saber in hand and posed to do the same toss that had happened right before the gunshot the last time. You spotted it, a twinkle of metal with a barrel. You shot into a roll, avoiding the shot this time. Screams rang out. You hadn’t heard them last time. Your adrenaline-run mind guessed that you had already been in shock and deaf to the world in the last run.

The gun aimed again and you clenched your teeth, dropping your sabre as your performance was clearly over. You found your legs moving, again before your brain processed what was happening, and you shoved Monster Kid out of the way of the next shot. Since when had he been there? Not important. You shoved three more humans and monsters out of the way, hoping the shooter was out of bullets, when you were knocked back. He had shot you again, and you felt one more shot before you heard the telltale curses of a crazy shooter noticing his gun was empty but still trying to fire off another hit unsuccessfully.

 _Seven bullets._ There was too much blood around you, but you found yourself smirking. A bullet in the stomach and one in the chest shouldn’t have made you smile, but now you had information you could use the next time around.

_Third time’s the charm._

— — —

You were going to be a broken record soon, but you really hated dying. Dying twice in a row after three years of no Loads or Resets made these deaths seem so much more draining and painful than you could seem to remember any of your past deaths being. Then again, you had been numb to just about everything before the final run when Monsters came aboveground.

You were once again gasping in bed, clutching the sheets. This time you jumped out of bed right away, getting your bag ready. You could only exit from your window, Sans would definitely be waiting at your front door (or Frisk), so you had to risk it. You dropped down into the alley, not at all surprised when you saw Sans there with his arms crossed and his smile almost completely straight.

“Okay. So first I think that we had to pull some elaborate scheme to save La Venganza’s life, then I think that you knew La Venganza personally when you ran off without even looking at me. The idea had certainly been one that I suspected to be true on several occasions. Now I know that you _are_ her, and you just let yourself die a second time. What is wrong with you?!”

“Oh please, you, me, and Frisk can’t be the only people to ever remember the Resets,” you argued weakly, trying to push past him. He didn’t let you.

“No. But the chances of some other human in this town, who is also one of the leading Monster Rights protesters, being able to remember the Resets just like the human friend I made more than a month ago who just so happens to be a very skilled dancer? I don’t think so, and don’t try to talk around it again,” you sighed, shrugging our bag off and onto the floor and sitting on it. You nodded to him, resigned. Sans sighed and plopped down next to you, not caring about sitting straight on the ground.

“Frisk and I were able to find where the asshat stands, but his following shots threw us off. We didn’t want to tackle him and make him hit someone that was out of your range to push away. And I’m not allowed to use magic on humans, we don’t need a law suit to complicate things. For us _or_ the Movement.”

You nodded. “I counted seven shots before his gun ran dry. I was almost there last time, almost made it. I wasn’t expecting him to aim straight at me again after switching to the crowd,” you tapped your foot, restless. Sans noticed, and you felt his bony hand on your shoulder. You refused to look at him until he called your name. Reluctantly, you raised your gaze to his.

His eye sockets were crinkled with worry, his brow bones pulled down and his grin actually twisted into a slight frown.

“Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, but you shook your head.

“I— the Loads by themselves make me jittery and short tempered, Sans. Dying on top of it makes me want to punch something. I’ve always hated dying,” you pulled your legs up close, wrapping your arms around your knees. You didn’t even notice your slip.

“Always?” Sans asked, making you glance at him again. This time he looked downright terrified. “You’ve died before?”

Oh. Oh shit, you had definitely not meant to release that tidbit of info. “I mean… not during the Flowey Resets with the whole thing with my dad,” you said slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. You didn’t plan to lie, but you had to make sure you didn’t say it too bluntly. It would only make him worry about you even more, and you didn’t need that right now since you two had a homicidal jerk to stop in a few hours. “But… during the Frisk and Chara Resets? Yeah,” you ran a hand through your hair. “Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it right now, though, Sans. But don’t worry— it was only suicide once—“

“Oh, only?” He seemed angry, so you quickly spoke up again before he could rant.

“It was somewhere around Load or Reset one hundred and eighty— I was hopeless and willing to experiment, okay? I never did it again, and I hated dying even that time so I would never do it again,” he calmed down after that, and a comfortable silence stretched. That was when Frisk finally joined you guys, looking like they had ran down all four flights of stairs. They sat down in front of you.

 **Are you okay?** Frisk signed, and you were quick to reassure them.

“As good as I can be after dying twice, kiddo. I’ll recover. Word of advice though; being shot hurts. I wouldn’t recommend it,” Frisk didn’t seem amused, but their voice let out a chuckle. “See? Chara appreciates my dark humor. Let’s go give this dance another shot, what d’ya say?”

“No,” Sans’ smile was back, albeit not nearly as wide as usual. “No gun puns.”

“You’re just mad because I’m gunning for your Pun Master title.”

“Twinkletoes. That isn’t healthy.”

“I imagine that this is how you got started punning, isn’t it? I’ve always wondered what could have triggered your pun obsession.”

“Let’s just go, introduce us to your mom or something.”

“You shot it— I mean got it!” 


	18. Not. Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry. No time shenanigans; but this chapter ended up super long. Wow.

“You know, it is pretty handy that the Loads fix windows. I broke mine last time around so I could drive off before Sans could catch me,” you said as you drove the three of you towards your mother’s place, tapping the driver’s side window with two knuckles to point out which one you had smashed. Said skeleton grunted next to you in the passenger’s seat.

“I remember. It only happened about the equivalent of five hours ago,” he pointed out. You looked at the clock, scrunching up your nose. Seven thirty already, and you had been driving for a while.

“Seriously? I never get up at seven! I know I woke up normally the first time around, and took forever getting out of bed… well, that explains that. I didn’t waste time after dying,” you cocked your head to the side. “I feel like that’s backwards. Aren’t you supposed to make sure you don’t waste time until after you’re dead?” You felt Sans shrug next to you, and glanced in the rear view mirror to look at Frisk, who also shrugged.

A semi-comfortable silence stretched until you pulled into your mother’s driveway, once again four hours early. You unbuckled, turning to look at both of your close friends. They looked up at you when they noticed you hadn’t made a move to get out, and immediately stopped what they were doing to give you their full attention.

“Thank you,” your voice was barely above a whisper, but it also sounded terribly close to tears. Sans and Frisk could both see in your eyes (and voice) just how much you meant those two words.

“We didn’t do anything yet,” Sans started to argue, but you shook your head.

“You remembered. And you didn’t repeat. That is more than enough already,” the skeleton’s eyelights softened in understanding as he nodded. Frisk smiled and dove forward, awkwardly twisting to hug you. You let out a startled laugh as you patted their head.

“Alright, let’s get out of this tiny rust bucket. My mom is a natural early riser, she was already up and dressed last time when I got here right about now,” you leaned your weight into your door to open it, slamming it shut once you were out in the chilly morning air. You sighed, looking down at yourself. “I forgot, again, that I’m in my pajamas,” you muttered. Frisk heard you and broke into giggles. You playfully glared at them, giving them a quick noogie before bringing both of your best friends up to the entryway of your mother’s modest house. You didn’t bother knocking, taking your keys from your dance bag and letting the three of you in.

The walls were painted a nice dusty lavender shade, giving the spacious one-story home a cheerful but calm aura. The floor was entirely polished, dark wood.

You took a moment to savor the comfortable warmth of the building, the familiar hum of a television with the volume turned down so that it only provided background noise, and the smell of cookies in the oven. You found yourself with a bittersweet smile on, and a certain two friends looking at you with worry. You waved their concern away, leading them to the open living room and kitchen area, where the three of you had a perfect view of your mother baking. She had purple and pink speckled yoga pants, the type that were breezy and amounted to basically just being glorified sweatpants. She had a long gray nightshirt over it, and a very splattered beige apron over everything as she stirred a giant bowl of batter by hand. She always said that stirring by hand made a better cookie than using a machine mixer. She hummed as she worked, and the sound coupled by the familiar sight of her messy brown bun and mismatched clothing calmed you down a little.

“Hey mom,” you said softly, your quiet voice still managing to echo in the largely silent, open house. Your mother jumped, putting down the bowl before looking up. Her eyebrows rose in shock when she saw your company.

“Well! I’ll be. I never thought I’d see the day that you both got up early _and_ brought new friends over to see me, much less all in the same day,” that was when her perceptive gaze caught your rather odd outfit. “And…you’re still in jammies? Goodness, girl, what in the world is going on for you to be so out of character?”

You winced at her word choice, as did Frisk and Sans. The Resets and Loads made normal people behave much too similar to video game characters for any of you to be comfortable with her wording.

“Mom,” you started out, shifting on your feet. If all went well, you wouldn’t repeat today again. In that case, best behave as if there was no way to erase mistakes. Your mind whirred, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for two new people suddenly being privy to your secret identity now. Wow, that made you sound like you thought of yourself as a hero. “This is Sans, and Frisk,” you introduced your two best friends to your mom, gesturing to each one when you said their name. She immediately brightened up, patting the flour on her hands onto her apron before reaching out to shake both of their hands, seemingly not even noticing that one of them was a skeleton and the other a kid. She treated them like she would any other adult she met for the first time, only more cheerfully.

“Hello! I’ve heard so much about you, Sans. I’m glad my little Vigil has found another good friend,” she gushed before her eyes landed on Frisk, and softened considerably. Your mother knelt down, holding her hands out for a hug. “And you, Frisk. C’mon, we’re not strangers Frisky bits,”

As Frisk ran up to tackle your mother in a hug (you and Sans pretended not to notice the grateful tears on their face), Sans turned to you.

“Vigil?” He asked, commenting on what your mother had referred to you as. Your blushed a little.

“It’s an old nickname. More of a title, really. I’ll tell you later,” you whispered back, shushing him as you saw your mom get ready to speak again. She tightened her hug with Frisk.

“I saw you on the news. When the barrier first broke,” your mom sniffed. “Me ‘n Vigil weren’t in the best state, back then. We were both locked up in our separate houses, dead to the world. It was a miracle I turned on the TV that day,” your mother pulled away to look Frisk in the eye. “I was shocked. When that wore off, I was happier than I had been all that week. You were okay. I was so glad that we didn’t lose you _both_. And you got yourself a family that’s better than those two turds that thought they could hide bruises from my watchful eye— I guess it’s my fault though. They only moved you because I gave an anonymous tip to the Child Protective Services and they tried to escape them,” your mother smoothed Frisk’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Frisk shook their head, signing slowly. Your mother always needed a few extra seconds to process signs, her eyesight was never the best. **I can’t be mad at you. I didn’t even know. But you only did what you thought would protect me, I can’t be mad about that.**

You and Sans shared an awkward glance. You wanted to give them their moment, but at the same time you guys had a bit of a time limit. Eh, it wasn’t like you could do much preparation beforehand anyway.

Eventually your mother and Frisk stood up, wiping off their tear stained faces and focusing back on you. “Okay little Vigil. I doubt you came here earlier than you normally even drag yourself out of bed in the morning just for me and Frisky bits to have a touching reunion. Fess up.”

“I was getting there, geeze,” you snarked back with good humor. “I told them about La Venganza.”

Your mother froze for a second, but quickly recovered. “Well. I know Frisk was Lee’s best friend, so I understand telling he— them,” your mother quickly corrected herself before using the wrong pronoun. Frisk’s parents had insisted that they be referred to as ‘she’ before, so your mother had to adjust to no longer needing to comply. Frisk smiled gratefully at her. “But you met Sans a month ago. You never trust people that quickly!”

Sans shrugged when your mother shot him an apologetic look. He knew it was true, no reason to get upset. It wasn’t like he normally trusted a person he only knew for a month, either.

“... You know I don’t tell you about everything that happens in my life mom,” you said gently. “Truth is, a lot has happened. I trust Sans more than I trust Max or Synthia,” you ignored your mother’s gasp and soldiered on, “Because he’s shown me that I _can_. I love Max and Synthia, I do. But they don’t understand me like Sans does,”

“And ‘sides, me’n Frisk overheard some interesting info that La Venganza needed to hear. We figured that Twinkletoes here acted like she knew La Venganza a bit anyway, so we tried to get her to pass on what we heard,” he shrugged. “She told us the secret then and asked us to help her.”

“Wait, what did you hear?” Your mother asked, completely buying Sans’ bullshit. You cheered silently in the back of your head. The timer went off on the oven, making your mom squeak and run to pull the first batch of cookies out. As soon as she turned around, you gave Sans a brofist, mouthing the words “I owe you one,” to him, to which his grin just widened. Oh boy. He was definitely going to try to cash in on that favor later, wasn’t he?

Your mother came back a minute later, patting her hands on her apron again. “Okay, now you can tell me. I swear that oven has the worst timing.”

Sans let out a short chuckle before getting serious again. “Frisk and I heard that the Anti Monster Movement is taking precautions. They don’t want La Venganza to finish another dance any time soon, and caught on to the idea that she’s gonna show during the fair. We think they had a member walk the fairgrounds armed each day of the festival, most likely with a gun. Everyone is waiting for her to come back, it wouldn’t be surprising for them to plan an assassination for when she does.”

Your mother was pale. She fumbled on her feet for a moment as she walked a few steps over to plop onto one of the plush sofas in front of the TV.

“I can’t lose them both,” she muttered, hunched over. “I can’t lose both my babies.”

You and Frisk shared a glance, knowing that your mother was the perfect foil for Toriel. Both mothers, both adopted children, both had two children (even if Toriel only adopted one of her two), and both met with tragedy for their children. So far your mother had only lost your sister Lee, you wouldn’t let her lose you too. It was one of the few reasons you kept living, you knew it would break her if you stopped.

“Mom. Mommy,” you knelt in front of her, making her look at you. “Hey, hey. I’m an adult. I’m strong and stubborn and I won’t let them kill me if I can help it okay, someone has to stay here to take care of you,” you consoled her softly. “That’s why Sans and Frisk are here. We’re going to make a plan, yeah? First, Synthia can’t go out there with me— no, not the toothfairy’s chance in Hell am I putting her in danger too,” you looked back. “Sans can teleport. Sans, you up for dressing up so that we can’t tell you’re a monster? I need someone to help me carry out the signs. Sans would be safer out there than Synthia, mom. Even if we save his teleportation as a last resort, he can still dodge super well,” you learned _that_ the hard way, the first time you tried to have a snowball fight against him.

Sans nodded, walking up behind you and putting a hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, Mrs. Twinkletoes, the only thing you have to worry about is helping us find a way to cover all my bones.”

After all, nobody could find out he was a monster. They’d just have to narrow it down to the skeleton monsters they could find, which were only Sans and Papyrus, and target the obvious one. You wouldn’t let him put himself in danger for you. Not more than he’s already insisting on, anyway.

———

You all decided your mother was better off focusing on the cookies rather than worrying about the danger her daughter was in. With a plate of the freshly baked beauties on the coffee table the three of you sat around, you munched and planned.

“We can’t stop him before he fires a shot,” was the first thing you whispered to them. Your friends paused mid-bite. Sans continued eating a moment later, silent, while Frisk was confused and trying not to panic.

**What are you saying?! You can’t let him shoot you or anyone else!**

“She never said we were going to do that, bud,” Sans intervened. He leaned back, cookie gone. “She’s right, Frisk. Unless he’s caught actually trying to harm someone, we won’t be able to get him locked up where he belongs.”

“Not just that,” you continued. “But if he doesn’t initiate an attack, we can’t show any evidence of direct violence from people with an anti-Monster agenda. Showing the public just how real the threat is will be an important step to ending the danger, or at least limiting it. We just have to work our tailbones off to make sure nobody actually gets hurt,” you took another cookie. “We still have three hours to plan and get ready, that’s plenty of time.”

Sans nodded. “We need a way to get him to focus only on you,” Sans said, his voice slow and reluctant as if just saying the words pained him. You guessed it was because he didn’t want to put you in danger, but you both knew that you had a much better chance of dodging bullets than anyone in the crowd would. You would have a full dancing floor’s worth of empty space around you, for one. Frisk looked horrified at the idea, but this time they didn’t argue. They dodged and danced their way through the entire Underground, this part they understood.

“About that,” you brought it your phone, flipping through your song list. “I have an idea. It’ll be a surprise though, I need to work out the kinks in my head.”

Sans shrugged, but his gaze was focused and serious on you. “If you say so, Twinkletoes. Just be careful.”

“I know. I don’t want to do this again either.”

“That isn’t why,” Sans said softly, his grin leveled out into a straight line again. He was doing that a lot, this time around. You decided you liked his smile better. A lot better. “You don’t need to feel that pain again. You don’t deserve that.”

You weren’t inclined to agree, your self-depreciation was seriously kicking your ass big time after these Loads, rearing its familiar ugly head. You had been getting better about that! Oh well, not the most important thing right now.

You sighed. “Anyway. Since we’ve got time, fill me in on anything I missed after my deaths.”

Turns out Sans and Frisk weren’t anywhere near your performance the first time around. They were at Toriel’s, having some pie and tea before they would get ready to head to the studio. Nobody had called Sans to tell him you had shown up; you both guessed that nobody who would know to call him about it had been nearby. Next thing they knew, Toriel got a call from your phone. It was Synthia, who had been introduced to everyone two weeks earlier. Apparently she had taken your phone, knowing that the normal police and paramedics wouldn’t respond as quickly as they should to your attack since you were obviously Pro-Monster, and had called for Toriel and Asgore’s help with the situation. Sans teleported first Toriel, and then Asgore over to the scene, where only the two goat monsters were allowed to look under the sheet and identify your body. After the realization of who you were, Toriel broke into sobs and Asgore had frozen for a moment before taking over the situation. Sans hadn’t been in the loop, but Asgore had swiftly and (according to Sans) with a slightly rough voice, announced the death of La Venganza. Sans hadn’t waited any longer, teleporting back to Frisk and telling them what had happened, causing Sans and Frisk to decide to use the child’s power of Loading.

The next time, they said, they had spent the entire four hours before the performance scoping the scene. Since neither of them had seen the shooter before, though, they didn’t know who to look for. Of course, they came up short and decided to stick to keeping a watch as the performance went on. As they had told you before, the two of them managed to find the shooter after the first shot went off. They had both hesitated, thinking they were too late, when they realized that you had dodged it. Sans knew his hands were tied since he couldn’t risk tackling the guy and making him shoot someone you couldn’t protect, but he also couldn’t use magic and start a nasty legal issue. So instead, he and Frisk stayed nearby and discreet as they watched him, preparing to jump the moment he ran out of bullets. They did just that, realizing only after he was arrested that you hadn’t managed to dodge all the shots. That was when they realized that the chances of another human who was coincidentally around your age, gender, height, and build miraculously being able to also remember Loads and Resets and change their actions accordingly were just not plausible. Horrified that their mutual best friend had just died twice, Sans and Frisk once again agreed to use the power of the Load. And here you were.

“Well. That’s certainly…” you were silent for a moment. The story had taken a while, especially with the switches between Sans talking, Frisk signing, and your mom bringing fresh batches of cookies. Thirty minutes, in fact. That still left a whole dang two and a half hours, so you decided you might as well do your stretches. Limber bodies are better at dodging, at least that was how you justified it. You were still going to dance anyway, better to avoid a cramp or pulled muscle ruining your plans.

Frisk decided to stretch with you, to allow the both of you to calm down and relax as much as possible. Sans “napped” on the couch above the two of you. That killed another thirty minutes.

And then, right at the two-hour-early mark, came Max and Synthia. “Right on time,” you muttered blandly when you heard the door open. Sans decided that that was the perfect moment to miraculously wake up and look as if he had been awake the whole time (you knew he totally had been). The moment the two chatting friends rounded the corner, they froze. Max looked between you, Sans, Frisk, and your mother who was now cleaning up her baking mess.

“Come get a cookie,” she called happily from the kitchen. Neither of them moved.

“So, uh,” Max rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes darted to you, and he said your name. “Mind telling us what’s going on?” His wording could have been better, but his tone was actually just confused and caught off guard.

“Sans and Frisk caught wind of some anti-Monster jerk planning to hurt La Venganza, probably been scoping out the Festival all week. I decided that I didn’t like hiding who La Venganza was if they were sweet enough to go out of their way to ask me if there was any way I could warn her, and here we are,” You drawled, boredom lacing your tone as you went along with the story Sans had come up with.

“Wait Wait Wait,” Synthia held up her hands. “Someone could possibly have been, and still be, scoping out the festival all week looking for the chance to hurt La Venganza, and we aren’t called first thing to discuss rescheduling?”

“We aren’t rescheduling,” you said simply, standing up. “I need your help raiding Lee’s closet for long sleeve shirts, gloves, and Sans is going to have to borrow the Anonymous mask this time Synthia,” you cracked your knuckles, trying to will away the guilt crawling in your stomach. You didn’t want to disrupt any of Lee’s things, but you didn’t have any gloves, or that many long sleeved shirts to speak of either. Your mom’s stuff would be too big, and Sans admitted to not having gloves either. He offered to just wear his hoodie, but you knew it was too iconic to who he was, too easily recognizable. It would have to stay home.

“Wait,”Synthia said again, eyebrows drawn low as she stepped towards you. “What do you mean he’s going to borrow the mask? I’m going up there with you!”

You imagined what she must have felt, seeing you die the first time around. You imagined what you would feel if a bullet went stray and hit _her_ this time.

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly.

“I have a bad feeling about today!” She screamed at you, that was new. She didn’t seem to retain any actual memories, but it seemed like she remembered enough, deep inside her brain, to feel uneasy.

“So do I. You aren’t going out there. I created La Venganza. She’s my brain child, I’ve put the most effort into her and into this whole protest. I appreciate everything you and Max do to help me, but I am not letting you risk getting taken down with the ship I built,” you took a deep breath. “Just— help me look through Lee’s old stuff. I can’t do it on my own or I’ll end up sobbing the whole time,” you turned to Sans. “You too. You have a better idea of what will fit you than we do; I still don’t understand how you fill out your jacket when you’re just bone.”

“Mmmmagic~” He even did jazz hands to accompany his lame answer. You found yourself chuckling, appreciating anything that would take your mind off of whose clothes you were about to be rummaging through.

———

An agonizing hour was spent in your sister’s virtually untouched bedroom, ruffling through her clothes, talking about fond memories, and sobbing into her pillow. The three of you ended up with a good ensemble. A pair of black sweatpants that almost swept the ground, with extra long black socks under them just in case. A baggy turtleneck with navy blue sleeves and neck with the rest black, and a thin navy blue hoodie that he could pull to cover his skull. The mask went on next, thankfully large enough to cover his whole face. You were glad it was chilly outside and that skeletons couldn’t get uncomfortable from heat, because you were feeling warm just looking at him.

Then it was time.

You walked down the hallway towards the living room and kitchen area, but stopped halfway and doubled back to your old bedroom.

“Twinkletoes? We got twenty minutes before we have to leave if we want to make it in time,” Sans called out to you. You ran back out to him five minutes later, grabbing your makeup supplies. You threw your flag—the six foot one that you used for the Trail of Dust dance, but with a new silk on it— to Max, who caught it easily.

“Huh? I thought we were doing just rifle and sabre this time,” Max said in confusion. You didn’t answer, snapping up.

“Alright! Seven minutes exactly for me to do my makeup. Max, this is the bag with my costume. Load it and my flag up first, don’t do anything before that. Synthia, double count all the signs and the floor and load it up, then remove the fake decal and makeup work on the van. Sans, Frisk, remove the license plate on the van and replace it with the dummy that is in the bed of it; Synthia or Max can show you where. Frisk, you’re too famous. Use some old canvas and other odds and ends to set yourself up a makeshift, but safe, hiding spot for you in the back. Make sure to account for what might happen during sharp turns and sudden stops, ask Sans for help if necessary. GO!”

Sans and Frisk, not used to you barking orders of any kind, stood there in shock for a second as you immediately rushed to the restroom to do your makeup and the others ran off to do their jobs. Your mother chuckled at them.   
“Hurry up now! You wasted five seconds. This protest thing is Vigil’s baby, so she orders everyone else around. Don’t keep her waiting!”

“Do you know why her mom calls her Vigil?” Sans asked Frisk as they ran (Sans! Running!) to do their jobs. Frisk shrugged.

**Nope. She and Lee both called her that back when I visited Lee all the time. But Twinkletoes never visited often, and I forgot to ask.**

  
———

You held the edge of the van, taking a deep breath. Your costume was different, this time consisting of a pure white long sleeved and long legged unitard with straight lines in sharpie, one down each leg and arm, one down your torso and up the neck part. You outlined your usual face paint with a thick ring of black.

“Why the sudden change from schedule?” Max asked as he looked back at you and Sans. You grinned, sliding on your masquerade mask.

“I was feeling spontaneous.”

Sans chuckled next to you.

Having to repeat a day more than once made you crave something new. Change it up. You knew enough about the shooter to feel relatively safe doing that. You felt excitement again as you and Sans took off when you gave the signal. Sans was running again (the world is ending! Not really) due to the fact that you had to keep his teleportation a secret since it would not only give away that he was a monster, but his entire identity. After all, teleportation was a pretty unique magic.

The set up went smoothly, and you handed him your phone with the stereo jack set up to plug into the speaker.

The changing signs had also been changed. The Title Sign now said:

Dance Title is: Nope

Song is: Paper Doll by Bea Miller.

You were done with the shooter’s shit, and your dance would show it. Your flag silk was not printed, since you hadn’t planned this ahead of time, and was just solid black. You started out with pure dance.

>   
> Does it make you feel good to make me feel small?  
> When you're pushing me down, does it make you feel tall?

  
Broken contraction- in. In. In. A slow backbend that turned into a walkover. When you straightened up from the walkover, you looked straight into his eyes. The man twitched, not expecting you to look at him.

>   
> Pointing out my flaws 'cause you wanna erase them all  
> Does it make you feel good to make me feel small?
> 
>   
> Betcha didn't think I knew what I was made of  
> Thought I would lay down  
> I wouldn't stand up

  
Sharp. Pointed. Don’t remove your eyes from him, you need him to focus only on you. Get him mad, get him scared. You rolled onto the ground, smoothly laying on the ground before popping back up.

> Well listen up 'cause you got it all wrong

  
You spun, landing with your feet spread, and with your arm pointing straight at him. He turned ashen.

> This is your song, this is your song

You scooped up your flag.

> I'm not a paper doll  
> Can't make me what you want

  
You placed the flag behind your head, arms draped over it like you were a scarecrow or a puppet. Run. Back attitude leap, turn in the air. Land in relevé. Twist your shoulder to pop the flag into your palm to spin up and away from the back of your neck.

> You just build me up and tear me down  
> Enough's enough  
> Go, leave me alone

  
You looked at him every moment that you were facing his direction. When you did pirouettes, you used him when you spotted. You did your best to Telegraph in your every movement that you would take no more shit, that you knew what he was doing and would not let him hurt anyone. Pure defiance.

> Cut me down but I won't fall  
> I'm not a paper doll

  
He was early, you saw the moment he angrily pulled out his gun and aimed at you. You smiled coldly, angry as hell at him. Oops, there was your bad habit of smiling when you were angry showing up again. You quite literally leaped out of the range of the shot, doing your plea when his finger reached the trigger and leaping the moment it pulled. The bullet whizzed right past your wrist where you were holding the flag behind you, and embedded in the concrete under your dance floor.

> Did somebody make you feel invisible?  
> Is it true hurt people hurt people?

  
Another shot, this time you did a quick backbend, hands touching the ground behind your head as the bullet passes an inch over your chest. Oh, you felt like a badass from the Matrix.

> The way you hate and break  
> It don't make no sense at all  
> But you're not gonna make me feel invisible

You tossed your flag horizontally over your head, catching it on your shoulders behind your head as you kept moving, the beat in the song guiding your movements. You didn’t feel like you were moving consciously anymore, feeling the music in your every cell. You were so angry, but so at peace. The music would carry you through. It would be okay.

> Betcha didn't think I knew what I was made of  
> Thought I would lay down

  
You saw the moment his gaze switched to MK, once again in the front of the crowd even though it had started to scatter at the sound of gunshots. He was running towards the stage to hide under it, but he wouldn’t make it. You ran forward, stretching your flag and popping it out of your hand just enough so the very end was in your palm, giving you enough length to trip him so the bullet passed over his head harmlessly. You wasted no time, jumping right back into the dance and locking eyes with the shooter again as you stood up as tall as you could.

> I wouldn't stand up  
> Well listen up 'cause you got it all wrong  
> This is your song, this is your song
> 
> I'm not a paper doll  
> Can't make me what you want

  
You heard the man scream. You had to keep him focused on you. The crowd was almost all gone now, so that would be easier. He let out a shot, but in his anger he lost some precision and you didn’t even have to bother dodging. It missed.

> You just build me up and tear me down  
> Enough's enough  
> Go, leave me alone

  
He shot again, you spun away from it. Two left. Only two left. He shot, right as you tossed your flag.

> Cut me down but I won't fall

  
Pain. So much pain, but it was bearable. You didn’t grace him with a scream, catching your flag. You stood there, glaring at him for a previous second as you recovered. He stared at you, horrified, having expected you to dodge or be hit fatally. But the bullet only hit your left arm, you hadn’t been able to dodge completely.

 _Guess I still have a while before I’m at Sans’ level,_ you thought with a silent chuckle.

> I'm not a paper doll  
> I'm not a paper doll

  
You kept dancing, gritting your teeth as you kept your wounded arm still so that you didn’t aggravate it. Your moves got simpler, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t let yourself stop.

> Can't make me what you want  
> You just build me up and tear me down  
> Enough's enough  
> Go, leave me alone

  
He shot one more time. Your saw his finger on the trigger just in time to dive forward into a (Very painful) somersault, landing with your good arm to the side of you after you knew he had missed. Your grinned as he tried the trigger again— nothing. He was out.

> Cut me down but I won't fall

You stood up and ran over to him, using your flag to knock him off balance like you had to MK, only not nearly as kindly.

> Oh, you'd love if you crumble me up  
> In the palm of your hands

  
You stomped on his wrist, making him release the gun as your uninjured hand guided your flag and placed the butt at his throat gently, a stern warning. He froze but cursed at you. The next lyrics to play almost make you laugh.

> Well, I bet that sucks  
> 'Cause now you know you can't

“Don’t mess with my protests,” you hissed, making your voice slightly deeper and softer to disguise it.

———

The police came only a few seconds later, along with Toriel and Asgore. Sans had teleported them over as soon as he got to cover halfway through your dance (as planned) and changed back into his hoodie (also planned) so he could take them over and look as if he had been somewhere else all along.

You got taken into an ambulance, but refused to remove your makeup or mask. The bullet wound wasn’t too serious, so you were able to ditch the paramedics after they took care of the worst of it, ignoring their yells for you to come back.

You knew Sans, Frisk, and Synthia has taken care of the signs and floor without you, so you headed straight back to the van. Sure enough the back was open, allowing you to leap inside, slam the doors shut, and let Max drive you all out.

You, Sans, and Frisk all grinned at each other widely. You did it.

“Better get back to Toriel and Asgore before they wonder where you’ve been,” you told Sans, who shrugged and blipped out.

You did it.

You accepted the cinnamon bunny that Frisk handed you, the Magickal treat helping close your bullet wound a little more, and stopped the bleeding. If you only ate magical food for the next few days, it would be mostly healed up and you could pretend you were never hurt. 

 **Don’t think I’ll forget that you got shot even thought I told you not to, though,** Frisk signed, worry-fueled anger in their eyes. You froze. 

Shiiiiiit. 


	19. UNCLE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explain the nickname “Vigil,” but this chapter took over instead. Next one, maybe?

Oh. Jeeze.

Well, dying was very high on your list of things you hated, but you just found something that can pretty damned close to it on that list.

You were on the sofa at your mother’s house, wrapped in blankets so that your good arm was stuck to your side, your legs were unable to move besides bending a little at the knees, and you were uncomfortably warm. Only your head and injured arm were free of the constraints as Frisk force-fed you a magical soup. Them, Sans, your mother, and Max were all punishing you for getting shot. Synthia— well, she was still in shock and muttering in your vague direction about having been right about her bad feeling.

“Sorry dear,” your mother said, blinking apathetically. “I care far too much about your health to give you another cookie. You need all the nutritious, magical food you can get if you want your arm working at full strength again soon.”

“And that isn’t even considering that your arm needs to be healed at least half way before you leave this house, or your cover will be blown,” Max pitched in oh-so-helpfully. Sans was drinking a bottle of ketchup right in front of you, his worried eyelights never leaving your face. He hadn’t said a word since he was able to teleport over after leaving Asgore and Toriel, which just made you uncomfortable. You missed your comfortable banter and punning with him.

You sputtered, trying not to spit hot liquid everywhere as Frisk impatiently put another spoonful of soup in your mouth. You swallowed, coughed, and glared at them half heartedly.

“Okay. I get it, Frisk. You were worried,” you looked around at everyone. “But I’m fine! It was barely more than a graze, the bullet didn’t even go all the way through my muscle or hit bone—“ you ignored Sans’ strangled whine and choking on his ketchup. Right, he had no muscles. You guessed that he hadn’t known about just how much damage physical bullets could do to a physical body, or the intricacies of how that damage was done. “So please stop coddling me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a little wound like this. I just need time, rest, and magic food,” you wiggled in your blanket constraints. “Overheating me and restricting my movement is not going to help me recover.”

Your mother came over, patting your head. “Oh honey,” she said sweetly. “None of us are taking the blankets off until you finish the soup.”

Frisk shoved another spoonful in your face.

“Yeah, yeah. At least make airplane sounds,” you opened your mouth, letting your overprotective friend coddle you for a little while.

———

A lot of annoyance and sweat later, you were finally free of your restraints and allowed to turn on the TV. “Ughhhh,” you groaned, flopping to lay down. Sans disappeared, reappearing on the floor beside your head. You jumped; you weren’t expecting him to teleport such a short distance.

Your mother was getting dinner ready, and Frisk had already been taken home by Sans not long after they finished force feeding you. Synthia and Max had left as well— but not before ordering you to keep them both updated on your healing status. So, you and Sans were alone in one room for the first time since your injury.

“So,” he spoke up, his voice instantly relaxing you. Having him silent for so long must have unnerved you even more than you thought. Still, you could hear the worry and care in his voice as he spoke. “You doin’ okay? That— ugh, tibia honest bud it makes me sick to even look at the wound,” he said, and you looked over to detect a slight ashiness to his skull. You figured that that was what happened to skeletons in place of their skin paling. You carefully lifted up your hurt arm, which was uncovered since the skin was now sealed. It was still raw and nasty looking though, the area around it badly bruised. It also looked… soft, a telltale sign that the healing was only skin-deep so far rather that healing the whole hole.

“Yeah, me too,” you admitted, putting your arm down. “I’m fine. I’m alive, the day has continued without rewinding— all in all, I’d say I’m pretty fantastic. Sore, and not in as good of a state as I was before all this. But still pretty fantastic,” you slapped your hand over his teeth. “Shh, it’s about me!” He… hadn’t even been about to say something. But it was true, the talk show on TV was talking about you. It was just finishing off showing a clip of your latest dance, though the filming camera understandably went askew and cut off early because of the shooting that had occurred. The show was more political than Straight Talk, Honesty’s show, and the host this time was a male.

“That is footage from just a few hours ago, folks. Obviously we had hoped that our next last-minute discussion on La Venganza would be on a more positive note, but that clearly isn’t what ended up happening. And this is the breaking news that starts our Hot Politics segment today. For our guest, we have a leader in the Anti-Monster Movement. Please welcome Fresa Jones,” the claps were thundering.

You sat up a little bit, ignoring the searing pain in your arm as you put a little too much pressure on it. You felt Sans sit up straighter from his position next to you.

The woman was tall, easily two or three inches taller than you. Her hair was dyed a (you hated to admit it) gorgeous lavender-silver, matching her light gray eyes. It flowed loose and wavy just past her shoulder blades, making her look like a goddess from ancient myth. Fuck, why did the enemy have to have such good looking people on their side? Nobody wanted to admit it, but appearances swayed a lot of human opinions. Even in such serious things as government, beauty held sway.

Her grace was like that of a mountain lion as she practically stalked to the comfortable couch near the host’s desk, crossing one toned leg over the other. Her smile was flawless.

“Oh shit,” you groaned. “If she doesn’t already have people literally worshipping her, I’ll eat my filthiest sock,” you muttered to Sans, who agreed with a very grim hum and a sharp nod.

“So, Fresa,” the host didn’t look at all affected by her beauty. “It is already confirmed that the attack on La Venganza was premeditated by an outspoken member of the Anti-Monster movement. What are your thoughts?”

“Extremists,” she said in a clipped tone. Her voice was just slightly high enough to hurt your ears, making you sigh in relief. She wasn’t perfect, good. “Just like any other movement, we are bound to have members that are… overly invested. The cause drives them mad, and they do stupid things like this,” she gestured to the still-image clip on the screen of you dodging a bullet. “The Anti-Monster Movement as a whole is not responsible for this man’s actions. We are purely a peaceful protest and petition group, worried about the safety of humankind. Monsters are a plague upon—“ you changed the channel.

“I’ve heard enough,” you muttered softly. “Every word coming from her mouth was bullshit. The Anti-Monster Movement is known for their violence. At every protest, at least one Monster is harmed. Every petition has to be rewritten because of slurs and threats against monsters written alongside the signatures. There are mass AMM forums online with hundreds of members planning less-than-legal activities,” this time the heat you felt had nothing to do with blankets and everything to do with anger. “We’re finally building a good support in the Monster Equality Movement! I’m not about to let that goddess-bitch, or anyone else, take away or keep away any more rights from you guys!”

Sans was silent, so you looked over at him, he was standing, a phone in hand and positioned near the side of his head. He cleared his nonexistent throat.

“Asgore called halfway through Fresa’s answer,” he said slowly. “I tried telling you, but you didn’t even hear me.”

“Is that on speaker, Sans?”

“Mmmmaaaaayyyybe,” Sans drawled. You took a deep breath.

“Umm. How much did you hear, Asgore, sir?” You asked out loud tentatively, Sans holding the phone a little closer to you so Asgore could hear better. You heard the goat monster cough. Was…was he trying not to laugh? You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. He spoke once he got himself under control, his voice slightly staticky over the phone.

“Howdy! I heard everything. Or I assume so, considering there was a bit of a pause before I heard your voice,” he made another coughing sound that you suspected was him trying to cover up another chuckle. “I’m beyond glad to hear how much you support monsters and our cause, child. Even if I wouldn’t have used quite that, ahem, _terminology_.”

“I’m very passionate!” You defended yourself, and you would have crossed your arm if… well, if you could have. Asgore didn’t bother covering up his soft chuckles this time.

“It’s quite alright. I was wondering if you would come visit me, tomorrow?” You blinked, mentally shifting through your schedule. Max said not to worry about work or practice with your wound (his exact words might have been more along the lines of “I will kick your ass out personally if you show up at the studio at all in the next five days!”) so you had a free day. And Asgore lived at the same house as Toriel and Frisk, despite the two boss monsters still not getting along too well. Things were getting better, but slowly. They were only living together for Frisk’s sake, and even then they had rooms at opposite ends of the house. You could visit for whatever Asgore wanted, and also get a slice of Butterscotch Cinnamon pie to help your wound without coming off suspicious. To top it all off, you would even be able to visit Frisk and assure them again that you were fine. Sounded like a good deal to you!

“Sure Sir! I have the day off tomorrow, so when do you want me over?”

“Does eleven tomorrow morning sound alright? You can stay for lunch. I just wanted to chat, we have only met twice and I would like to get to know you a little better.”

He was such a dad. You had met once when you had had dinner with Frisk and the rest of the group at Toriel’s (the second time, apparently Asgore had been busy the first time), and again during an all-day hangout with Frisk a week after that. The two of you actually got along quite well, but you still called him Sir out of habit. You didn’t feel like you knew him well enough to drop the title just yet. Maybe tomorrow would change that!

“That sounds perfect. Thank you for inviting me, sir.”

“Not a problem at all,” he had already given up on asking you to just use his name. “Have a good evening, child.”

Sans hung up for you, stuffing the phone in his hoodie pocket. You sat up the rest of the way, letting Sans flop on the sofa next to you.

“So. Wanna ‘port back to your place to watch stupid movies and pun so we can forget about today?”

“Oh, totally.”

———

The day was nice. Just chilly enough outside for you to be able to wear a baggy long sleeved sweater (borrowed from your sister’s closet. It smelled like memories and regret) without the clothing choice seeming odd. Still, you had had a cup of Sea Tea before bed and first thing when you woke up, followed by a Glamburger that Sans had shoved in your face. He claimed it accomplished two goals at once; healing you, and getting you to hate Mettaton. Sadly, Sans had work so he wouldn’t be able to come along with you on your visit. You weren’t that heartbroken though, he and Asgore had an odd relationship that seemed ever so slightly rocky. You figured it was because Asgore was the one that appointed Sans as Judge.

You tugged on the navy blue sweater nervously, feeling weird wearing Lee’s clothing, then knocked on the door to the home of Frisk and the Goat Monsters. And the flower jerk. But you don’t mention the flower jerk.

The heavy door opened just a moment after you knocked, your sight suddenly filled with familiar golden locks. Asgore smiled warmly down at you. “Howdy! Come in my friend,” he said cheerfully as he stood aside to let you in. His presence was oddly comfortable, familiar, and it let your nerves dissolve into the air.

“Good morning Asgore, sir,” you greeted politely. “How are you?”

“Oh look, it’s the adult human,” Flowey sneered from his place on the living room coffee table when he saw you come in. You stuck your tongue out at him, making Asgore chuckle.

“I’m fine, child. Flowey, be nice. Come my friend, let’s sit outside. I’m sure neither of us would want Flowey eavesdropping on our chat.”

You smiled at Asgore. “He isn’t that bad, more bark than bite. But you’re right, I’d like to have a good— hostile free—“ you glared at Flowey briefly, “chat.”

With that, Asgore led you to the back yard with a soft smile. The two of you sat on the back porch overlooking the magnificent garden. For a few minutes, there was a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed the brisk air and sweet scent of non-animated flowers.

Then Asgore spoke.

“How is your arm?” His voice was soft, caring, but also knowing.

You stiffened, quickly pulling on your poker face. “My arm?” You looked at him with furrowed brows as you pretended to be confused. “Sir, I don't—“

“You don’t need to lie, child,” he gently assured you, putting a fluffy paw on your good shoulder. “Time is a funny business, is it not? Every now and then it turns back a little. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know that Frisk was behind it, but I thought they had stopped after we got aboveground. I never thought they would feel the need to do it again.”

You froze, your poker face slipping off. “You… you remember too?” The boss monster let out a heavy sigh, gazing down into your eyes for a moment before he looked over his garden again.

“I am sure Sans knows how it is possible, that skeleton always seems to know more than anyone else. We’re lucky Frisk only had to use that power of theirs thirty or so times, or it may very well have driven Sans and I mad. It is not a power that is kind to the mind, I’m afraid.”

Thirty..? But there had definitely been more than three hundred. In fact, just after this last Reset alone there were— oh. That was it. Asgore thought he remembered everything, but he only remembered the Loads. The full Resets must have been too strong even for his mind to recount.

But what had Frisk and Sans told you? Asgore had seen under the sheet, the first time around. He had seen your body, seen your face under the La Venganza mask and paint. He knew, he remembered.

You let out a pathetic sound that was halfway between a depressed sigh and a hysteric giggle. “You being able to remember explains a lot,” you said softly, rubbing your bad arm gently right below the wound. He turned his head to gaze at you softly again.

“As you may have found, we Monsters get attached rather quickly. You are already like family for us, even for me. Perhaps not before, I am ashamed to admit, but even before I knew who you were I had considered you a friend. Knowing what I do now, it seems silly to not consider you family.”

You let out another sad chuckle, leaning back in the large wooden bench you two were sharing. “I have bad experiences with fathers of mine. I had two, my birth father and my step father. Both are dead now,” you confided in him, you voice barely above a whisper. Asgore heard you perfectly, letting out a low, melancholy hum of understanding. Words were not needed. You let a peaceful, silent moment pass before you finished the thought. “So how about I consider you my uncle? I’ve never had one of those.”

Asgore let out a deep, surprised bellow of cheerful laughter. It didn’t last long, but it made you smile.

“I would like that,” he looked over at you, a mischievous and truly happy glint in his eye. “I’ve never had a niece before, myself.”

“Does… I know this is off topic, but Toriel. Does she..?”

“Remember?” Asgore finished your question for you. “Stars, no. Otherwise she’d be even angrier at me, if she knew how many tries it took Frisk against me before we reached our happy ending.”

You nodded with a small grin. Toriel would have been furious, no doubt, if she knew Asgore had killed Frisk multiple times. Or at all.

“I assume you know all that happened Underground?” Asgore’s question seemed calm, but obviously nervous underneath that facade. You patted his furry back in reassurance, a lot more comfortable with him now that you knew he remembered (albeit not as much as you, Frisk, Sans or Flowey,) and had even seen your dead body. Sans had told you that Asgore had frozen up after recognizing you, so he obviously cared. Probably deeper than you knew. That was more than enough.

“Yes. But I can’t hold anything you did against you, especially if it no longer exists. I’d be a pretty big hypocrite if I did.”

“You did things you regret as well?”

You nodded. “They were all wiped away with Frisk’s ability, but I made more than a few mistakes after time started acting funny and only I remembered. I’m glad those mistakes are gone now, but I’ll always remember them.”

“Indeed.” The two of you sat and basked in the heavy guilt you both had. But it was alright. You would both deal with the regret, with your mistakes. You would just have to do your best to atone and avoid any more similar missteps.

“Now that we have that cleared up however, I really am concerned about your arm. How is it healing?”

“Just fine, Uncle Asgore. Still sore, and it still looks absolutely horrible, but Frisk and Sans have been forcing me to eat magic food enough that it shouldn’t be too bad for much longer. That reminds me, did Toriel make pie?”

Asgore let loose another deep laugh. “Why yes, I believe she did. You can even have some for lunch and she won’t be any the wiser.”

“Any the wiser about what?” Toriel’s voice called from the door leading outside, laced with suspicion. “You are limited to one slice each! If I give one of you more than one, then Frisk will want more too. We both know that they are horribly hard to deal with on a sugar rush.”

That marked the end of your private discussion with Asgore, but you gained an uncle. And if you ever needed someone to just sit with when your guilt was hanging heavy over your shoulders, you knew you could do that with Asgore. He didn’t push you to talk, and you both could use company once in a while to just sit with and mull over your errors of the past next to. When you sat down to lunch, Asgore made a point of setting an extra-large mug of golden flower tea in front of you to go with the pie. Toriel didn’t even notice.

You could really not have hoped for a better family.

 


	20. Heroism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. In here, the world “soul” is lowercases when it used in a general form. Like “monster souls” or “people’s souls,” things like that. But capitalized when it is personal, like “our SOULs,” or “my SOUL,” or “your SOUL,” 
> 
> I’m going to try to use this format from now on, and go back and apply it (eventually) to the previous chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote feature wasn’t working because my phone wouldn’t let me scroll up after highlighting a phrase (I cope and paste my chapters over from my google docs so my work is safer), so it is bolded this time. I’ll fix it eventually.

You were laying down on your couch, legs slid off the side to make room for a certain lazy bonehead, who had come over to your apartment and pushed your legs off to make room for his bony nonexistent ass. Your phone was held over your face by your good hand, your injured one carefully laid down straight next to you. It had been two days since your little talk with Asgore, and that lunch of pie and tea had done wonders for the wound. Of course, the forced meals of hot cats, glam burgers, and sea tea over the past couple days had also helped tremendously. The wound was almost completely healed now, only a large ugly bruise and a half-circle scar left to show that a bullet had ever pierced the flesh. And the residual soreness.

“What‘cha doin?” Sans drawled next to you, unable to see your phone screen from his angle. When you didn’t respond, he noticed the earbuds firmly in place on either side of your head and rolled his eye lights. With a flick of a phalange, one earbud turned blue and lifted itself away from your eardrum. You startled, glancing over to see the floating bud before turning a deadpan stare on him. Slowly, you raised one eyebrow.

“You need something, bone boy?” You asked dryly, but Sans could tell you weren’t angry because of the spark of amusement in your eyes.

“I was just wondering what you’re doin.”

You turned your phone so he could see the screen, showing a list of songs that you were clearly listening to.

“Song surfing,” you explained, turning your phone back to yourself and tapping on the screen a few times. “I figured you wouldn’t mind, seein’ as you know now and all. This is how I find the songs for my performances as La Venganza. I look through all sorts of music, any genre. Popular and unpopular, indie or rising star. I look at the lyrics first, then if I like it I’ll listen to the song. As you can tell, a lot of potential choices get weeded out like this. I’m very picky,” you elaborated. Your friend nodded, letting out a hum in thought.

“Huh. I just realized how large of a song vocabulary you must have.”

“I’ve been dancing since I was old enough to walk, Sans. Of course I know a lot of songs,” you glanced at him over the top of your phone. “This is all I can do for now, after all. You and the others banned me from protesting for two weeks,” you pouted at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “I’m perfectly fine now, though. And the people want their favorite Monster Equality protester back. Can I pretty please perform next week?”

“No.” The answer was flat, the look Sans gave you was even flatter. “Not a chance in hell. And you know it isn’t just about your health.” You sighed, losing the pout. 

“I know,” you replied glumly, going back to your music surfing. If anyone knew that La Venganza had recovered so quickly, they’d immediately know that magic was involved. Of course, people would already expect La Venganza to have access to monster food so they wouldn’t be too surprised if she came back a little early. But only a week later was far too soon. They would start targeting monsters with healing magic, thinking they helped her. Then they’d question the monsters who sold monster food. It would just invite too much trouble.

Didn’t make you any happier about it though.

You needed to dance. What had first started out as something that had been forced upon you and had made you feel like you were being melted to fit into a mold of someone else’s choosing had turned into your passion. Dance, for you, was synonymous with life and energy. It was your outlet and your savior. Occasionally it was also your ruin, but at this point you were so finely melted and mixed into dancing that you were no longer able to refuse its call even when you hated it.

So you got up, going to your room and throwing open your closet.

“...Twinkletoes?” Sans asked, confused as he followed you.

Leggings, check. Tank top. Sports bra, a pair of your dancing socks (that were heavily worn at the top from all the spins you had done in them, and close to ripping). Looks like you had everything you needed. You shoved it in a smaller version of your practice bag, turning when you heard Sans call your name a second time. You blinked at him in question, and he sighed. His legs were spread to give him a solid stance, and his arms were crossed as he leveled you with a serious gaze.

“You’re banned from the studio, remember?”

“Not for much longer,” she said with a finger held up. “I can go again on Monday. But that doesn’t do me any good since I need to dance ASAP,” you dropped onto your bed dramatically, but your tone and expression showed that your next words were serious. “I hate being cooped up. I can be lazy with the best of ‘em, like you for example, but not all the time. Sometimes I just need to move, to dance, or I feel jittery and incomplete and anxious about everything. But when I dance it’s just—“ you waved one hand around as you struggled to find the right words. “It feels like that’s what I’m supposed to be doing,” you looked up at him, one corner of your mouth twisted down. “Like, even if the dance doesn’t cure my problems, it will help me face them. Feels like dancing is a… a part of me that I don’t always pay attention to,” you explained. Sans’ eye lights were bright, and they were so wide that you figured it was his version of dilated pupils. Something you said must have interested him or something. He sat down next to you.

“That sounds like what it feels like for us,” he said. When you looked confused, he elaborated; “Monsters. You already know our magic, our SOULs, are connected directly to our dancing. It feels a lot like what you’re describing, our connection to dance. It could be that your SOUL is connected to your dancing similar to how Monster souls are,” Sans told you.

You thought about it. Your first thought was about the possibility of you having magic if that was true, but you brushed it off. Mages had been extinct for decades. There might be some shreds of their magic in human souls nowadays, but probably not enough to wield magic. And you were pretty pessimistic of your chances of unlocking powers that have been dead for decades out of the blue; you weren’t all that different from other humans after all. Then again, you probably already had more magic in your soul than the average human since you remembered Resets and Loads. On the other hand, becoming a mage so suddenly on your own on top of remembering the time shenanigans was just too strange. There was no way one random person like you would be so special.

Your second thought was that this new discovery made you closer to Monsters, which made you smile.

“That… feels like the right explanation,” you admitted. And it did; something just clicked when he told you his idea, as if your SOUL wanted to make sure you knew he was correct.

Sans heaved a heavy, dramatic sigh, probably sensing your SOUL’s agreement. “Then I guess we better get you somewhere you can dance,” he said with a fake, exaggerated groan as if you were seriously inconveniencing him. You chuckled and sat up, then remembered you didn’t need to pack a bag with clothes if Sans could just teleport you somewhere after you’re already dressed. You decided to run into the restroom and change.

Coming out a moment later (this time with your normal clothes in the bag in case you were going to go somewhere afterwards and you didn’t want to be in skimpy dancing attire), you smiled at Sans. “So. We can’t go to the studio, so where should we go?” Your bony friend made a show of putting his hand to his chin in a thinking pose and making a loud hum.

“Well. We don’t need someplace with a polished floor or anything since I forbid you from doing anything that may hurt your arm—“

“Damn, That eliminates most of the fun stuff,” you interrupted with a pout. Sans just kept on going as if he didn’t hear you.

“So how about we just go to the forest around the mountain? It isn’t too far off, though I’ll probably end up sleeping the whole time if I have to bring us there via shortcut.”

If Sans noticed how you relaxed when he mentioned he would probably be asleep, he didn’t show it.

“Sounds like a good place to me,” you agreed easily. But Sans didn’t stand up. “Uh? Bone boy? You gonna get up anytime this year?”

“Hmmm. Only if you explain that nickname your mother called you.”

That made you deflate. You somehow looked dejected and embarrassed at once, which was an odd look on you. But Sans didn’t take back his request.

“Fiiiine. After you get us there.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“No— that was a travel pun!” You pointed at him with a wide smile. He chuckled and shrugged at being found out. He finally pulled himself up and away from your comfy bed, holding his hand out to you.

“Let's go then, Twinkletoes.”

You put on a mischievous smirk and took his hand, immediately pulling yourself into a spin that made you end with your back against his chest. You could see the reflection of his bright blue blush in the window across from you, and smiled victoriously as darkness overcame the both of you to signal the start of teleportation. A moment later, you were both standing in a clearing in the woods.

Sans cleared his nonexistent throat (how? Just… you needed to stop questioning this) and awkwardly moved away from you. To make it seem like he actually moved away for a reason other than embarrassment, blue enveloped the large branches and rocks in the clearing to float them safely out of the way. You smiled gratefully and went to the center.

“I’m still waiting for an answer.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I’ll tell you while I stretch,” you retorted as you say down on the soft grass. With legs straight in front of you, you started with the basic stretches to work your way up to the bigger ones.

“Vigil is short for Vigilante,” you said first. Your voice was level, as if you were talking about something that didn’t interest you. “When I was a kid, not long after the incident with my biological father and right about the time I was adopted by my mom, my sister and I started public school. We met our first non-familial bullies,” you laughed, slightly bitterly and slightly nostalgically. Mom quickly noticed that I’d chase down anyone who picked on other people and threaten them to stop doing it. It worked pretty well without me having to follow through on any of the petty threats since everyone was scared of me. They knew about me killing my dad, after all,” you switched to standing stretches. “Even worse, they knew about what our dad had done. They started teasing and bullying my sister about it, then me once their fear of me wore off. I’d rough ‘em up a little bit— just a couple bruises to scare them off a bit, nothing that would actually hurt them— and it escalated until I was scaring them off like that for bullying anyone at school, not just me or Lee. When my mom caught on, she called me Vigilante since I never got caught and punished for what I did and I was dealing Justice even though it was against the rules,” there was silence as you finished your stretches.

“With a story like that, I’m starting to wonder why there isn’t more justice in your SOUL,” Sans wondered out loud. “It seems like something pretty big for you.”

You looked at him, then shrugged. “You said my primary trait used to be Passion, right? I think that makes more sense. I didn’t start being a Vigilante-type deal for any valiant purpose. I just wanted them to back off my sister and I, then I got really passionate about protecting people in general after a while. Justice wasn’t what started it, even if it may have played a hand in keeping it going and keeping me from turning it into something bad,” you admitted. You turned away as you flipped through your songs, no longer wanting to look at him with what you said next; “I’m not a perfect person you know. Not everything I do is gonna be for some amazing cause. But every now and then I end up doing something right,” even if you get hung up on your failures and mistakes more often than not, you thought.

Sans didn’t reply as you put on a song and set your phone down under a tree before taking position. Only when the lyrics first started did you remember something rather important.

 _“Sans' style of dance is hip hop, and he was the strongest monster in the underground surprisingly.”_ Chara’s words from weeks ago filled your head. You forgot hip hop was Sans’ style, and if he was so strong then he had to be goddamn amazing at it.

The song playing was Eminem. Your face was red as a cherry.

**Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity  
To seize everything you ever wanted  
One moment  
Would you capture it or just let it slip?**

The beat just hit. Nope. The last time he saw your dance hip hop was a mistake— you were not going to do this on purpose and embarrass yourself in front of somebody who might very well be worthy of the title of hip hop God. 

You started to go to pick up your phone, but a bony hand caught your wrist. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into Sans’ face.

“C’mon, you said you needed to dance,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Obviously you have good taste in dance if this is what you’re feeling like right now.”

You let out a pathetic chuckle at his joke. “Hahaaaa— no. Nope. Not embarrassing myself when I have time to stop before you see me. Nah-uh. I’ll switch styles. Yep. Something I’m more confident with than hip hop. Definitely. No need to see my sloppy footwork today,” You were rambling.

“Hey. I get it, I don’t dance in front of others either,” his grip tightened a bit as the song continued playing though neither of you were listening right then. “But you are pretty damn good, I won’t let you bash your own dancing. ‘Sides, I like this song,” he let go of your wrist, moving behind you. You still didn’t look up. He was still so close.

“I’ll tell you what. This song’s beat is pretty good. Too many people focus on the fast stuff, but I’m a lazy guy at heart so this is more my speed,” you relaxed a bit at his pun, which didn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll dance with you. But, uh,” you glanced back just enough to see his face was just as blue as yours was red. “Let’s have you facing away from me, ‘kay? For now. I uh, haven’t danced much since the Resets, even less once Chara changed things up.”

Oh. Ohhh, that made sense. Now you know why a monster, whose health was affected by how often they danced, would stop dancing.

“You’re okay with me watching if I’m dancing along with ya, right? Even if you don’t have a mask to help you feel comfortable right now?”

You took a deep breath, then nodded at him. “Yeah. Yeah, okay,” You agreed and bent down to restart the song. You both backed up, waiting for the beat to drop.

**Yo  
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy  
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti  
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready  
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin'  
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud  
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out  
He's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now  
The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow!**

Your moves were sharp, but spread out. Sans was right, this song didn’t require too many quick movements. The beat was fast enough for hip hop, but steady and slow enough for more attention to individual moves and rest between them. You felt Sans move behind you, out of sight but his dancing was easy to feel in the air. Even without this being magical, his resonance with the style rang in the air. It made you feel small, like you were still a four year old learning ballet basics and how to stretch.

It was wonderful.

Getting nothing but praise and criticisms being few and far between had made you feel like you had hit a ceiling in your dancing, but now there seemed to be so much more room for you to grow and get better and it made you ecstatic. You could get better! Learn better moves, feel yourself grow, create better art. It was such a gift to be given hope for improvement and discovery again.

Your moves got closer together, usually focusing on one limb at a time. Segmented. Time it with the beat— hit. Hit, sharp, steady, but don’t be too rigid. Hip hop is relaxed, casual, he dance style of the streets. No need to conform with rigid rules, feel it with your heart and allow room for mistakes. Perfection was unnecessary, but attention and care was essential. So liberating.

**Snap back to reality, oh there goes gravity  
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked  
He's so mad, but he won't give up that easy? No  
He won't have it, he knows his whole back city's ropes  
It don't matter,  
He's dope, he knows that, but he's broke  
He's so stacked that he knows  
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's  
Back to the lab again yo, this whole rhapsody  
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him**

Jump. Experiment with levels. Allow yourself to defy gravity. Gravity? Sans had gravity magic! The connection made you laugh with glee as you danced, your SOUL soaring. You were still acutely aware of him behind you, moving with you, but you had no idea what he looked like. What moves he was doing. But he felt like he was just as elated as you. You could feel the joy in the air, it was palpable. You could probably reach out and grab a handful from of air that was filled with his love for his dance style.

**You better lose yourself in the music, the moment  
You own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime**

Yes. You had no idea when you’d be able to dance with Sans again. Life was unpredictable, you just died twice and was shot again in less than a day just a few days ago. Frisk had to save every day just to keep the ability from disappearing. What if it did vanish, and you died for good? You needed to take the opportunity given while you could.

“Sans,” you spoke over the music even though you didn’t stop moving. You knew he was listening even if he didn’t respond. “I want to see you dance. Can I turn around?”

**You better lose yourself in the music, the moment  
You own it, you better never let it go  
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow  
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime**

A pulse of excitement and embarrassment and fear rang in the air, and you knew instinctively that it came from him. His resonance with the dance must have opened his feelings to the immediate area more than you had anticipated.

“...Okay.”

**The souls escaping, through this hole that it's gaping  
This world is mine for the taking  
Make me king, as we move toward a, new world order  
A normal life is boring, but super stardom's close to post-mortem  
It only grows harder, only grows hotter  
He blows us all over, these hoes is all on him  
Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter  
Lonely roads, God only knows  
He's grown farther from home, he's no father  
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter  
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water  
His hoes don't want him no mo, he's cold product  
They moved on to the next schmo who flows  
He nose dove and sold nada  
So the soap opera is told and unfolds  
I suppose it's old partna, but the beat goes on  
Da da dumb da dumb da da**

You used the slight pause before the chorus to jump-turn around to face him. His eye lights were tiny but bright, as if he couldn’t decide whether to be terrified or overjoyed. You didn’t know that your face was similar, but was filled with more passion. More excitement. Your fear, unlike his, was pushed back behind the brighter emotions until it was only slightly visible. You also had no idea that Sans could feel the sparkles of passion in your SOUL glitter and glow even without looking at it.

It wasn’t synchronized. You both kept the beat perfectly, but your moves were mismatched since you hadn’t choreographed it. It was messy. Two separate dances happening at the same time, only the timing of each move perfectly synced.

It was perfect.

His moves made you jealous though. You took every single twitch in with wide eyes even as you kept in motion, letting the full effect of his dance sink in. He was wonderful. No wasted energy, each move was sharp and precise, but his body was always relaxed. You were all precision and talent, but he was skill and perfection. He knew exactly how to move to draw the meaning out of the song while making the whole dance fit together, not a single kick or swing of his upper body being out of place. The whole dance was like an artist sculpting; every single wrinkle in the rock combined to make an even more gorgeous piece. With every movement hit on the beat, his dance got even more stunning.

You didn’t need to be doing the same routine to be dancing to the same song and feeling the same emotions. To be dancing together instead of apart. Before you knew it, you both had jumped into your ending move and the song faded out. Both of you had slightly irregular breathing from the exercise, but neither of you were panting since it hadn’t been too fast or strenuous.

For a while the two of you just stood and stared at each other.

“Holy crap,” you were the first one to speak. You didn’t even give Sans enough time to flinch at your reaction before continuing. “You are like— are you the Hip Hop God or something? Or the Muse for Hip Hop? Wait, don’t tell me, you were created for the express purpose of making everyone else in the world notice how little they have yet to learn about the lifestyle that is the hip hop style of dance,” your eyes were practically sparkling.

Sans was caught off guard by your dramatic, passionate comments on his dance. He was shocked into a deep, bellowing laughter. You pouted as he clutched his nonexistent stomach and hunched over in front of you, laughing.

“Seriously dude,” you continued determinedly, though this time more serious about your praise. “That was the best thing I have ever seen! And you weren’t even trying, like what the hell. That amount of skill and talent should be against the natural laws of the universe.”

Sans slowly straightened up and wiped off cyan tears from the corner of his eye sockets. “Oh please,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. Besides, you were pretty damn good too.”

“Hell no, not compared to you I wasn’t!” You protested even though you didn’t seem upset by your viewpoint at all. “It makes me feel like a kid again! It’s— Stars, it’s fantastic,” you ended the sentence breathlessly, staring at Sans as if you were seeing him for the first time, the same way he had gazed at the stars for the first time.

“You were really good,” he insisted, pulling his hood up to hide how his skull was trying to impersonate a blue raspberry slushy. “Your technique is almost perfect, and you connected to the song really well. You also never strayed from the rhythm even the tiniest bit, which I expected considering your background but it is still impressive. And—“

“Okay fine,” you interrupted with an eye roll. “I was good. There. But you don’t get it. You were goddamned perfect. It makes me so excited!” You jumped. He looked up at you with confusion, pulling his back just the tiniest bit so he could see you better. “It means I can get better. It means I haven’t just hit a ceiling, there is still so much for me to learn! I love having fun just dancing, don’t get me wrong, but I always want to be better. And— and now you’ve just…” your hand gripped your chest. “You’ve made me want to experiment and learn again. For something other than dancing for fun or protesting. You make me want to make art with my dances again. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

Sans stared at you in awe. You weren’t bitter that he was better, you didn’t deny that he was better, you didn’t beg him to teach you or to reveal some secret to his dancing that didn’t actually exist. You did nothing he would expect a normal person to do. You didn’t insult him just because you could. You didn’t claim his skill was only due to his species. You gushed about how amazing he was and told him that he inspired you again. You didn’t want him to teach you, you wanted to learn alongside him. And that made so much of a difference.

Did you even realize how special you were?

Sans himself didn’t even begin to realize it, not really, until that moment when he found he couldn’t look away from you. The passion on your face was so beautiful. It gave you life. It looks like, even if something from the past made you into someone knew, he could still catch glimpses of the happier person you used to be.

 


End file.
